Like Father, Like Son
by electric violinist
Summary: The third part of Father Figures. If you're not sure if you want to read this - check out the reviews! Thanks lovely reviewers!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I really hope people are still keen to read this. Welcome to the third (and probably final part) of the Father Figures series (trilogy? Maybe).**

**THIS IS A SEQUEL TO FATHER FIGURES AND SINS OF THE FATHER. PLEASE READ THEM FIRST AS THIS WILL NOT MAKE SENSE! **

**Hope you enjoy! **

Padraig felt sick, like a small herd of jellyfish were trying to clamber up his throat, to escape into the bowl that Ms Jones, the school secretary, had placed in his lap. The thought of how many kids had sat in this spot with this bowl on their laps didn't help keep the jellyfish under control.

Of course, the three worms, found on the school field, that Jimmy Penny had dared him to eat probably hadn't helped either, but someone had to stand up for the family name, show the world that the Bradys weren't a bunch of soppy queers. And God knew Declan wasn't doing that; _he_ was wondering around getting people to sign 'protect the turtle' petitions. Or was it bats this week? Padraig didn't really care. And now it was spreading around the school; their Dad was shacked up in England with some poof. Their Dad was gay, queer, a poof, and a hundred other words that the older boys liked to shout at Paddy whenever there were no adults around. Or sometimes when there were.

And Declan was no help. Some older brother; he wouldn't even beat them up for him, even when Paddy promised to help. He just spouted some nonsense about 'rising above the bigots.'

So Paddy had shown them. He'd accepted the dare, because Brady's were strong, whatever his father and brother seemed to be doing.

"Padraig," called the secretary, "I couldn't get through to your Mam, so I called the second number we had, and your grandma or granddad should be here soon, alright?" She smiled kindly (Paddy hadn't mentioned the worms to her) and went back into her office to do whatever it was school secretaries did. Answer phones? But why did enough people phone schools to require so many secretaries?

But that didn't matter. He was going to see Granddad.

He hadn't seen Granddad for moths, not since his Dad turned up so randomly and shouted and they'd had a fight over the queer. He and Declan had been banned from seeing the old man, even though he'd been shot, which was so cool! Paddy had a million questions about that. How long did it take to get the bullet out? What did it feel like? Could he put his finger through the hole? But his stupid Dad had said they weren't allowed to, and his stupid Mam had agreed, even though it was a stupid rule and no one would tell him why. Granddad had an x-box, and let them play as long as they wanted, and slipped them money, and didn't make a fuss about stupid things like eating broccoli. Stupid parents.

And Granddad had stabbed someone. It had been in the newspaper – Ben's Ma had read it and tutted away at it. How cool was that? It was self defence, the police had said, like the films.

Paddy was getting excited now. He hoped his Granddad didn't think he was a sissy for being sent home from school with a tummy problem. He'd have to explain about the worms. But Granddad was cool; he'd never told Paddy's Mam about the time he'd stolen a fiver from his Grandma's purse, or when he'd broken the neighbour's window and run away. He could trust Granddad.

Unlike Dad, who'd made Declan lock them in a hotel room and not ever told them why. Well, he might have told Declan. Declan seemed to know everything. He'd been to England to see Dad, and knew all about "Ste" the queer. And he got to meet Auntie Cheryl's friends who he said were 'well fit' while Paddy had to stay with Granny. And not even cool Granddad's Granny, his Mam's boring, religious Ma. It was so unfair.

The school administrators wandered by a few more times while he was still waiting, wondering if he could smell the bottom of the bucket. After about ten minutes, Ms Jones returned.

"How're you doing Padraig?"

How did she think he was doing? He'd eaten three worms? Oh, no, she didn't know that. She just thought he had a poorly tummy. But the glare must have said it all because she didn't seem to expect an answer. "Aw, you poor wee thing," she said instead, "well I've got good news for you young man; you're going home."

Paddy's heart sank a little. His Ma would make him go to bed and have bread and milk and fruit for dinner. Granddad would have let him watch telly all day. He gave the bowl back, face in full sulk mode, and stormed out of the admin area. Well, stormed as much as a small twelve year old with a poorly tummy could.

It didn't take long to reach the visitors entrance – the one reserved for parents, governors and sick children. It was a warm, friendly sort of room, with a clear glass retractable window to reception and fluffy blue chairs (dark blue, presumably to disguise the result of hundreds of sick children waiting here. Well maybe not hundreds. Tens. Tens of sick children.) In one of those blue chairs, a tall greying man sat, one arm in a sling. His face was firm and strong, his eyes watchful, and he was flirting with the young receptionist through the glass.

Padraig's heart lifted at the sight, but he managed not to behave like a soppy girl by running into his arms or something. Instead he just tried to look cool (putting his hands in his pockets like the teachers didn't like) and tried not to grin.

"Alright Granddad?" he greeted.

Mr Brady turned to his Grandson.

"Padraig," he greeted.

**AN: Would love to hear what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Genuinely thrilled by the reviews. Thank you so much. They really do make my day.**

**Paddy – he is angry and upset, but I'm not sure even I could make a completely irredeemable child. Or could I? Hmmm…**

**For now, a slightly nicer bit.**

Ste loved Brendan's arms. They were so thick and strong and firm around him. Not enormous, like some knuckle-head weight lifter or something, nor weedy like his own. They just announced their strength, quietly and subtly, to anyone who cared to look. And Ste enjoyed looking. Almost as much as he enjoyed feeling them around him. Times like now, when Brendan's arms were wrapped around him from behind, as they spooned, were the most wonderful of all. He could barely believe they were here, in Brendan's flat, sunlight streaming through the windows, having the most incredible afternoon sex session anyone ever had.

Well, lying in the glorious after-glow of the most incredible afternoon sex session anyone had ever had. It had been amazing. Sometimes, with Brendan, Ste felt like he was clinging on for dear life, that the rest of his life was built around those moments. It wasn't, of course. The kids were his life really, the thing he lived for. But this time, with Brendan, was like reaching for heaven. It couldn't really get much better.

Except they both had to go to work now. That was annoying.

Ste rolled forward to get out of the bed. The arms, however, tightened.

"Hey," he grumbled, "it's nearly four o'clock. I've got to get back to work!"

Brendan growled in his ear "Five more minutes."

"No!" Ste protested, "I've got to go, or I'll get the sack."

"So?" Brendan grumbled.

"So, then I'd be unemployed with two kids to support."

"Then I'll give ye your old job back."

"No thanks, Brendan."

"Ah, come on, illicit sex in the cellar, locking the office door, don't tell me you don't miss those days!"

"Hiding away, you mean?"

"No. Us. Being together. All day."

Ste sighed, "It's not really healthy, though, is it? For couples to spend all day together?"

"But you could spend an extra five minutes in my bed…"

"Hmm," Ste replied, "tempting, but I've got to go now Brendan!"

Brendan's hand crept lower, down his stomach, in a blatant attempt to distract Ste into staying. He wasn't giving up today.

Ste grabbed the hand before it reached its destination, and threw his legs out of bed before he could change his mind. "It's going great at work, and I can't risk messing them around again, specially since I ran off to Ireland with no explanation. I've got kids me, I can't just live off you, can I?"

Brendan mumbled something like "I don't see why not," but didn't push it, as Ste went on a hunt for his trousers. He located them near the door, and wondered vaguely how they'd got so far. It didn't really matter now. Even though their relationship was public knowledge, and months strong (or years if you included the pre Mr Brady, angst ridden stuff) the sex was still out of this world. Ste was usually grateful when he found there were no rips in his clothes.

Once he was fully dressed, he gave a playful glare to Brendan who had laid in bed watching the whole time. Brendan sighed and swung his own legs out of bed and, still fully naked, padded over to Ste.

"Have a good day at work," he whispered, and snogged Ste so thoroughly, Ste nearly forgot his determination to get to work. Nearly. With one last, chaste, kiss they parted, Ste for the restaurant, and Brendan in search of his own clothes.

* * *

><p>Brendan found his phone in a corner under a dresser. He often found things in weird places after Steven had visited. Imagining how they got there was one of his favourite pastimes when Steven wasn't there. It always involved detailed replaying of events in his mind, and was second only to re-enacting them on his fun things to do list.<p>

He checked the phone. Four missed calls, two voicemails and a text. He checked the text first.

"Did I leave my keys at yours? On bus. Ste x"

Brendan took a half hearted glance around the room for the keys, but secretly hoped Steven had left them there, then he'd have to come back straight after work for them.

Two missed calls each from Cheryl and Eileen. He frowned. Two each in two hours? He listened to the voicemail from Eileen first.

"Brendan, why aren't you answering? Cheryl says you're not at work, so… anyway, call me back."

There was urgency in her voice, but then, there usually was.

Cheryl next.

"Hi, Bren, Eileen's rung me twice. Apparently you're not answering her calls. I won't pry, but she is the mother of your kids, I'd expect her to take priority over you getting your leg over. Call her back, it's about the boys."

Brendan frowned. Cheryl's mood and attitude were not improving. Things between Steven and Cheryl were still difficult. She seemed desperate to prove he was lying, but with a kind of hopelessness that Steven said meant she did believe him really. She also seemed to have some blame for Brendan, a kind of coldness, a detachment. She said she wasn't speaking to their Dad, but their phone bill was itemised, so Brendan knew the truth.

He understood that too. He could barely believe the man he knew his father to be, and the man who brought up Cheryl so lovingly were the same person.

But he'd better call Eileen. She would probably be getting annoyed; though it had only been a couple of hours, she only ever called about the boys.

She picked up after two rings. "Brendan?"

"Alright, Eileen?" he said, warily.

"It's about time! Why haven't you been answering? Where have you been? Cheryl says you weren't at the club?"

"Jesus, Eileen, what's this, the Spanish inquisition?" Brendan exclaimed, feeling a dash of irritation.

"Alright, keep your hair on! I was only asking if you'd take the boys on Saturday? It's half term, but Ma's going in for an operation."

Brendan felt a sting of guilt. "Is she alright?" he asked.

"Aye, it's just a kidney stone, but I thought the boys wouldn't appreciate spending their holiday hanging around the hospital."

"Yeah, yeah, I'd love to have the boys," Brendan replied.

"So, I'll fly them both over on Saturday then? I'll text you the flight details. And they'll come back Friday so they've got the weekend to get ready for school?"

"That's great Eileen! Thank you!"

"Well, it's mostly because it's convenient," she mumbled.

"Still, thanks."

"Brendan…" Eileen started, then stopped just as suddenly, as though she'd had second thoughts. "Never mind. I'll tell the boys later, and they'll probably call you."

"Thanks, Eileen," Brendan repeated, genuinely happy. A whole week with both of his boys. A large grin filled his face, and he was grateful no one could actually see it.

"But they better not see anything … you know… They're only kids!"

"I know Eileen, I know."

She seemed placated enough.

"Right, Ok then," she said, "well I've got to get going. Don't let me live to regret it," she added, then hung up.

Brendan grinned at the phone again, then text Steven.

"Ur coming over anyway. Got news. B x"

Then he deleted the x. Then put it back. Then he replaced it with 'Good session. Hope you can still walk properly. X" hoping the sexuality would camouflage the sentimentality a bit.

Then he range Cheryl to let her know the good news.


	3. Chapter 3

**Couldn't be more thrilled with the reviews. Thank you all so much!**

**Hope you continue to enjoy!**

Mam had been so angry at finding Padraig was at Granddad's, you'd have thought he'd been playing with knives. She shouted at Granddad and said he wasn't to see Padraig or Declan again. Then she'd rung the school to say the same thing, while Paddy sat in the front seat of the stationary car with his arms folded.

After the phone call, she drove them back to theirs, while telling him off. Paddy sank further into his seat, folding his arms more firmly and sticking out his bottom lip.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, Padraig Brady, you knew you weren't supposed to see him. He's not a good man."

"He's fun!" protested Paddy, "and he let me have a burger!"

"You were sent home sick and you had a burger?" They pulled up outside their house. "Were you faking Padraig?"

"No!" said Paddy. Swallowing live creatures was not the same as faking.

"Alright," his Ma replied, "I believe ye. Thousands wouldn't."

They got out of the car, Paddy still with arms folded, and sulky bottom lip.

"Look, I called your Dad earlier," Eileen said in a placatory way as they bustled into the house. "I'm gonna be looking after Granny all next week, so I thought it would be nice if you went to stay with Dad. What do you think?"

What did _he_ think? What was _she _thinking?

"With Dad? And the queer?"

His mam pursed her lips, but didn't answer. Paddy wanted to know if she was upset he'd said that or upset about Dad and the queer.

She sent him straight to bed when they got in, then brought him up a book and a bowl of soup. He was bored already.

About an hour later he heard Declan get home. He heard him talking to Mam, and then clambering up the stairs. He didn't knock, he just walked straight into Paddy's room.

"Alright, Paddy?" he asked, with a smile.

"What are ye doing? Get out of my room, you rabbit!"

"Don't call me a rabbit," Declan replied, infuriatingly unfazed by the insult, "or I'll call you a bird!"

"That doesn't work! I don't eat like a bird!" Paddy replied, annoyed.

"No?" teased Declan, "that's not what Jimmy Penny said."

Bloody, know it all older brothers!

"Yeah, well, he's a liar!" lied Paddy.

"So, you didn't eat any worms today?"

"No," Paddy sulked.

Declan laughed at him, so Paddy scowled a bit more.

"Mam said you went to Granddad's?"

"Yeah? So?" Paddy sulked further, "we've been there loads of times."

"Yeah," said Declan, slowly, like he was explaining something they'd been over a thousand times before, "but Dad would be really upset if he knew."

Paddy harrumphed. "Like he cares, with his wee boyfriend."

"Yes, actually," Declan countered, "it's because of Ste that we're not allowed to see him."

Paddy glowered. "Yeah, that's what Granddad told me."

"I doubt he told you it properly," Declan replied, ominously. "Dad wouldn't even tell me what Granddad did."

Paddy snorted. It was just like Declan to make out he had more right to know - just 'cause he was older. Paddy knew better. "Granddad didn't do anything! He said so!"

"But he would say that, wouldn't he?" Declan replied, in his annoying 'I'm the oldest, I know better than you' voice.

"Ah, whatever," Paddy said, giving in.

"So, you won't go back again, will ye?"

"No," Paddy lied.

"Good," Declan replied, still in that annoying 'I'm so grown up voice,' "and we're not gonna tell Dad? Or Ste?"

"No," repeated Paddy, completely honestly this time.

"Good," said Declan, patting him patronisingly on the arm, before wondering out with a leisurely, "Get well soon."

Padraig checked his pocket for the fifth time that evening. Thirty quid in crisp ten pound notes. A taxi fare from a road near school to Granddad's and back again.

Granddad would want to know about all of this.

* * *

><p>Brendan thought that Steven wasn't nearly as excited by his boys' visit as he should have been. The only thing he'd said after Brendan had told him was 'Oh."<p>

"Oh?" repeated Brendan, in annoyance, "is that all you can say?"

They were in Brendan's bed. Steven had demanded a shower the moment he'd arrived and before they'd had any discussion of anything, however good the news was. Apparently a new member of staff had had an accident with some chocolate sauce just before the end of Steven's shift, and Brendan had relented when Steven had pouted at him. Later, when Steven had finally emerged from the shower, a towel around his waist and water dripping down his slender frame, Brendan had decided the news could wait a little longer, so hadn't shared it until after some fantastic sex.

"I mean… yeah…" Steven said, even more unconvincingly, and Brendan stared at him.

"My boys," he tried to clarify, "both of them, for six whole days."

"Yeah, no, I mean, that's great," but Steven's voice was not his excited one – the one Brendan knew should be annoying but somehow never was,

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded, in genuine confusion.

Steven hesitated before answering, "Well… I…"

The boy seemed unable to talk. They'd been having a great time until that moment, and now Brendan's great mood was dissolving. "Well, spit it out," he said unkindly.

"Spit what out?" asked Steven

"Whatever whiny little thoughts you're having."

Steven pursed his lips. "What, I'm not even allowed to think now?" he said, aggressively, and Brendan realised they were suddenly having an argument.

He didn't really know how to stop it. "What are you wittering on about now?" he said instead.

"Wittering?" Steven exclaimed, throwing himself out of bed in the opposite direction to Brendan, who mirrored the action.

"Yeah, with that little sad, 'I'm-so-vulnerable' voice you use when you don't get your own way."

Brendan felt a very fleeting sense of satisfaction at Steven's shocked expression, before an overwhelming sense of guilt.

"Fine," said Steven, grabbing clothes and tugging them on angrily, "Fine," he repeated, "I'll stay away, let you play happy families, but I'm not waiting for ya! I'm going out every night. If I pull, well, you'll just have to deal with it."

Jesus, when did this become a breaking up argument? "What?" Brendan cried.

"You heard!" Steven nearly shouted, "I'm not messing around anymore. You made all this happen. You could have just let me go to Newcastle, or left me alone when you got out of prison, then you would never have to worry about what your kids or your wife know, but no, you want to keep me dangling and hoping and waiting, and I won't do it!"

He strode to the door, but Brendan got there and slammed it closed before Steven had even got it open enough to step through.

The noise and the movement made Steven flinch away from Brendan, who felt his own guilt swell amidst his frustration. It didn't stop him though. "Stop being a drama queen, Steven, you've jumped to the wrong conclusions!"

"Don't call me a drama queen!"

"Just…" Brendan interrupted, "just.. listen! I don't want you to stay away, alright? I told you because I am excited, OK?" He put a hand on Steven's face, who was starting to calm down. "My sons and my… Steven, all together? How could I not be excited?"

The corners of Steven's mouth twitched upward. That was more like it.

"What were you gonna say?" he asked.

Brendan frowned. "What?"

"Before," Steven teased. "You said 'my Steven'. What was it going to be?"

Damn, he'd picked up on that. "Nothing, it was always going to be Steven, I just said 'my' by accident."

Steven was practically grinning, now. "I don't believe ya," he teased. "My friend? My partner? My lover? My boyfriend?"

Brendan growled. "Are you teasing me Mr Hay? After all that whining over something you imagined?"

Steven blushed. Brendan loved it when Steven blushed, though it was more fun when it was over something sexy rather than something like this.

"I think you should be making it up to me, don't you?" Brendan smirked.

Steven leant forward to kiss him, but Brendan had other ideas. He walked them both back to the bed, and sat on the edge, pulling Steven in between his legs. "I hope you can think of something," he said, glancing suggestively down at his still naked crotch.

Steven didn't move, or laugh, and when Brendan looked up he had a sad expression on his face. "Sorry," he said, "it's just… I know you're joking around, right, but… that's what Michael used to do."

Michael. The ultimate mood killer. Brendan had been so exhausted that night, and so relieved that Steven was alive, it had only been days later that he'd started to see it all again; his father's actions, the look on the young man's face when he'd realised what had happened, the blank eyes as he lay on the concrete floor seeping blood, now all those images haunted him, alongside Vinnie and Danny and the many images of Steven crying. He found some solace for them all in Steven's warm body.

"Sorry," he said, and flopped his upper body down on the bed.

Steven perched carefully beside him, and mumbled his own apology, before a dissatisfied silence descended. After a few moments, Brendan felt a hand find his, and he grasped it firmly. After a few seconds more, he transferred that hand into his other one, and used his newly freed hand to feel his way up Steven's torso, and gently tug the boy so they were both lying down. He stroked Steven's face, then kissed him gently on the mouth.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again," he whispered, "I swear it."

Steven stroked his hand in return. "I know," he said, "and it's OK. I'm a big boy, you know."

Brendan smiled. There was a sexual response on the tip of his tongue, but it died without leaving his lips. This was the wrong moment. He kissed Steven again, gently.

"So," Steven said eventually, "where are we going to take your kids?"

Brendan hummed in pleasure, and together they planned the week.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks again for fab reviews! Love them!**

**I may have broken an arm. This may slow down updates by one handed typing. It may speed them up as I can't do exercise or any other hobbies now. These two things may cancel each other out. We'll see.**

Padraig was really getting on Declan's nerves now. He had been sulking ever since Dad and Ste had visited, and that was months ago now. Though Declan understood a bit, he couldn't see why Paddy didn't just get on with it and do what he was told, like Declan would have done at his age. And he was sure, if he'd been lucky enough to have an older brother, he would have been much politer. Every time Paddy was rude and selfish (which was all the time) he felt a little less guilty about being rude back. The hours alone with him today, at the airport, on the plane, were nearly driving Declan mad.

"Cheer up, will ye?" he exclaimed, when they were told to fasten their seatbelts to land in Liverpool. "Dad was well excited when I rang. He's taking us loads of places. And Cheryl's friend Lynsey lives with them; she's well fit, and she put a psychopath in prison. And they've got this friend, called Mitzeee, and she's like, a glamour model. Well she said she was. I haven't seen her in any magazines, but she's well fit too. And Ste's great fun, and he's much better at football than Dad. It's much more fun than Granny's."

This didn't seem to cheer Paddy up at all though, just make him a little more worried.

"Are we gonna have to see Ste?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Declan, in the voice you would use to talk to an idiot, because Paddy was being stupid "he is Dad's boyfriend."

Paddy pulled a face.

"Oh, get over it," Declan said, "Ste's great, and Dad really cares about him."

Paddy scoffed.

"Oh, whatever." Declan gave up and instead watched the ground get closer through the windows.

Their Dad was to meet them at the airport, and Declan found himself rushing Paddy along in eagerness, but as soon as they spotted him, on the other side of a barrier, they tried to look cool.

Dad didn't bother though. Instead, he opened his arms wide and shouted. "My boys!" and pulled them both into a bear hug the moment he could reach them. "God, it's good to see you two!" he said, and Declan wondered if he'd ever let them go. This was probably not doing his image any good.

"Gerrof!" Paddy said eventually, but Declan was relieved when it sounded purely like teenaged embarrassment rather than any sort of genuine revulsion.

"What, can't I cuddle my big boys anymore?" their Dad grinned, "Come on. Is all this yours? Jesus, how long ye here for? A year?"

Between them they got the two suitcases and their hand luggage out to their Dad's car. Declan and Padraig had a scuffle over who got the front seat (while their father just smirked and watched) which Declan won, naturally, and they all got in.

"Where's Ste?" Declan asked.

"Oh, Steven's at work. But we can have fun, just us Brady men, ey Paddy?" He grinned into the rear-view mirror. Declan couldn't see Padraig, who had sat in the seat behind him, but he could imagine the face he'd have made at the mention of Ste. His Dad didn't seem to notice anything wrong, though, and drove them home to drop off their stuff before taking them all out for a burger.

It was a relief how fun it was. Dad was a lot more relaxed than he had been last time Declan had visited, and Declan couldn't help but find his happiness contagious, even though his vegetarianism was the butt of a lot of the jokes. Even Paddy laughed along.

Declan wondered how long that would last. Maybe until they saw Ste? He hoped it wouldn't be too big a fuss.

Quite suddenly, during a joke about U2, Paddy stood up. He looked down at the other two strangely, and said "I've got to go to the toilet."

Their Dad didn't think any part of this was strange, just pointed him in the right direction, then put his full attention on Declan. "How are you doing, Declan?"

"Yeah," said Declan, "I'm alright."

"Breaking hearts?"

"Dad!" he exclaimed, embarrassed.

At that moment, Brendan's phone rang. He pulled it out and checked the number. "Ah, it's Steven. Give us a moment, Deccy."

He turned slightly in his chair, away from his son and answered it. "Hey you."

Declan couldn't really hear Ste over the noise in the restaurant, but he could hear his father's half.

"Oh, we're just having some lunch, so."

Declan skirted his eyes around the room, checking out some local girls. Some of them really were fit.

"They're fine," he heard his father say, "Declan, say hi."

"Hi Ste," Declan called at the held up phone.

"Did ye hear that?" Brendan asked back into the phone. He waited briefly for an answer. "He's just gone to the toilet. Chill out Steven, everything's fine!"

Declan smiled. That was such a normal sort of conversation. He hadn't been sure his Dad was capable of making normal conversation.

"Nope, not one healthy foodstuff in sight, Mr Hay."

Declan laughed along with his father.

"You know, I'm gonna miss you tonight," Brendan continued.

God, flirty conversation.

Declan looked away again as his father insisted it was 'fine' to talk like that in front of him to, he imagined, a very embarrassed Ste.

He spotted Padraig returning, hands in pockets, customary scowl in place, and knew something was wrong. He was walking from the front doors, not the toilets.

Declan had a moment of indecision. Should he point that out to Dad? Did it matter? What could he possibly be doing outside a fast food place in Chester? He didn't know anyone here.

Maybe Declan had imagined it. It wasn't far off the course from the toilets. He'd ask Paddy before he mentioned it to Dad. There might be nothing to it.

Dad ended the call to Ste just as Paddy sat down. "You took your time," he said, not unkindly.

"Yeah," Paddy said, "there was a queue."

Declan didn't buy that – the restaurant was half empty. His Dad didn't seem to see a problem with it though.

"Never mind. Eat up, we've got tickets to the cinema in half an hour."

They all dug in to their food. Dad didn't seem to notice the slight shift in atmosphere. Declan didn't mention it either. After a while, Declan said "Is Ste coming to the cinema?"

"No," Dad replied, through a mouthful of chips. "He thinks we should have father and son bonding time."

"That's nice of him," Dec said, glancing at Paddy, hoping he noticed Ste's thoughtfulness.

"Yeah," Dad replied, "just the three of us today, but tomorrow we're all taking Leah and Lucas to the park."

"Who are Leah and Lucas?" Paddy asked.

"Ste's kids," replied Declan, "They're like, a baby and a toddler."

"Leah's five, Lucas is two. We'll have a kid swap; Steven'll play footie with you, and I'll make sure they don't fall off anything too high."

"Why does Ste have to play football? Why can't you play with us?" Padraig grumbled, and Declan laughed.

"'Cause Dad's rubbish at football."

Their Dad frowned, and Dec quickly corrected himself, "I mean, Ste's better, that's all."

Dad's frown didn't exactly disappear, but it seemed to diminish.

"It'll be fun!" Dec tried.

Dad hummed.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: So, it's coming slower. Sorry. I'm usually much further ahead on a story than I put up. but not this time. Also, there may be more typos. **

**I hope you're still enjoying it, and thanks again for the reviews. x**

Luckily, the film had been absolutely shit. Brendan had had a brilliant time taking the Mickey out of the actors and the scripts alongside his sons, and, in the process, really annoying an elderly couple a few seats away. They were still doing impressions and laughing when they arrived back at the flat in high spirits.

Unfortunately, the first thing to greet them at the flat was Cheryl in tears.

Brendan was at her side in a moment, wrapping his arms around her. The boys looked awkward and unsure of how to react. They had only ever seen fun, slightly crazy Auntie Chez. This was unknown ground.

"Hey, he, what's all this?" Brendan cooed, gently, "What on Earth's the matter?"

Between sobs, Cheryl let out three incomprehensible sounds.

"Deccy, put the kettle on, yeah?"Brendan hissed, mostly to make it one less person staring at Cheryl, "I didn't get that, sis," he said, kindly, as his son hurried to the kitchen.

Cheryl made the same three sounds, but this time managed to get some more consonants out.

"Dad's … left… Ma!"

Brendan did not know how to react to that.

"Oh," he said, still holding his little sister in a close hug. He tried to think of something comforting to say, failed, and instead said "When?"

"Last night," Cheryl sobbed. "Ma rang this morning. She's in bits!"

"I'm sorry, Chez," he said in the need of something to say, as Paddy stood by silently, staring, and Declan made tea.

"So you should be!" Cheryl snapped angrily.

Brendan glanced at the boys who were now both watching, nervously.

"Cheryl…" he started.

"He left a note!" She screeched, "All about you and Ste and how he felt like a stranger in his own family and pushed out! Now he won't take any of my calls, or Ma's! He was broken hearted you won't let him see his own Grandchildren! You've destroyed his life!"

Cheryl descended back into sobs, and Brendan shuffled awkwardly. Declan and Paddy were still stood awkwardly watching the exchange.

"Declan," Brendan said, "why don't you take your brother and show him your room? Help him get settled in, yeah?"

"Yeah," said Declan, "come on Paddy."

As the boys trailed up the stairs, Brendan noticed Padraig glance repeated at them. He didn't blame the kid – they probably looked a bit crazy.

"Calm down, Cheryl," he said, the moment his sons were out of sight. "You can't upset the kids like this."

Shocked, Cheryl looked at him as though he had said the most selfish thing in the world.

"My father has disappeared and you want me to be calm?" she exclaimed.

"Chez," Brendan groaned, "he's not disappeared. You watch, he'll turn up like the bad penny he is!"

"Don't talk about him like that! He's my Dad!"

"You never really knew him Cheryl! He is a sadistic, lying rapist with a taste for boys who are too young for him and who have turned him down! If he's left your Ma, I mean really left her, then she should be relieved, and you should be too."

Cheryl looked like she'd been smacked. "He looked after us!"

"He looked after you, Cheryl." Brendan countered, quietly.

Cheryl's tears increased, but Brendan just held on. He'd never been much good at comforting.

* * *

><p>The sound of his aunt's sobs followed Paddy to his bedroom, where they found a blow up on the floor next to a proper bed, which, of course, Declan jumped on before Paddy had a chance. Padraig scowled at his brother, before stroppily throwing his stuff down at the foot of his own bed.<p>

He could still hear Cheryl sobbing. He imagined his Grandmother doing the same thing, alone in that house back in Belfast, then his Grandfather, lonely and pushed out of the family by lies.

Padraig knew who was to blame for this misery, for Cheryl's tears, for his own anger. In all truthfulness, who was to blame for his father abandoning their family. Granddad had explained that Dad hadn't really been thinking properly when he made that decision. Dad hadn't really been thinking properly for a while Granddad had said, like that fighting at the restaurant, and locking them in a hotel, scaring them half to death.

There was one thing all of these things had in common. One person who was the root of them all. Ste. The queer. The freak who was making Dad like him, who made Dad turn his back on his family and then told evil lies about Granddad when the older man caught him out.

"You alright there Paddy?" asked Declan, interrupting his thoughts.

"Like anyone cares," Paddy replied.

He saw Declan shrug as he got into his pyjamas. "Just asking" he mumbled.

Paddy scowled a little more.

"Why did you leave that restaurant this afternoon?"

Paddy's stomach dropped. He thought he'd done really well at not being seen doing that. He needed to be more careful.

"Did not!" he said, aggressively.

Declan looked at him frowning. "You sure?"

"Yes!" Paddy grumbled, not trusting himself to say more.

Declan hummed thoughtfully, then said "I need to use the bathroom. No using my bed, midget!" and stepped on Paddy to leave the room, while Paddy threw a pillow at him.

When he was certain Declan was out of earshot, he slipped his hand into his pocket. He picked out a slip of paper and checked it over.

"Alright boys?" his Dad called through the door making him jump. His hand flew behind his back, and his heart pounded, but his Dad didn't come in.

"Yeah," he called lamely back, in unison with his brother from the bathroom, and heard his father's steps retreating, taking the opportunity to shove the piece of paper into the pocket of his bag before getting into some pyjamas of his own.

Granddad was the only person he could trust now. He was the only one who knew that Ste was the problem. He was the only one that knew how to get him out of their lives for good.

And Padraig was the only one who could help him.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Ooo, long 'un. Slightly under beta'd. Thanks again for awesome reviews!**

Ste had been terrified before. At least once quite recently, when he'd genuinely believed he was going to die, and many times in the early days of Terry. But these nerves were something different. It wasn't fight or flight, he couldn't run away, get out at any cost. He just had to accept the jittery butterflies in his stomach, making him uneasy and fidget with his hair.

Leah and Lucas were being pretty excited too. They knew they were going to the park to play with Brendan, someone who was becoming increasingly important in their lives, and that they were going to meet Brendan's children, though Ste had had to explain that they were 'big boys' who probably wouldn't want to play princesses before Leah got too excited. Lucas was excited too, having recently discovered the joys of football. That worried Ste too – he didn't think he at Paddy's age would have had the patience to play football with a toddler. Hopefully, Lucas would be content with the swings.

Lucas was at an annoying age were the buggy was sometimes essential, and sometimes horrible. He made a fuss about being put in one, unless he was tired, when he would expect to be carried if they had no buggy, which could be exhausting if it was a long way. So Ste, today, was pushing an empty buggy, while trying to keep hold of two very excited children

They arrived at about the right time, and had found a bench just in time to see Brendan and the boys strolling over the grass towards them. Both the boys were developing the Brady swagger, and Ste couldn't resist a grin at the sight of the three of them approaching in a straight line, with Brendan in the middle. They looked like they were auditioning for a Western.

Or they did until Leah shouted "Brendan!" and ran at him with her arms open. That stopped Brendan looking like a cowboy, as he welcomed her with his own arms spread wide. "Hey Princess," he greeted, and spun her round. "I'd like you to meet my sons. Padraig and Declan Brady, this little darling is Leah Barnes, Steven's daughter. "Then he spotted Lucas toddling after his sister, though with far less speed, "and this young man is Lucas Hay. How're you doing little man?"

Lucas noticed the big boys that were now looking at him, and toddled back to his father's legs. Brendan smiled. Leah, seeing her brother's reaction, also decided to be scared of the big boys, and hid her face in Brendan's neck.

"Hey, you know Brendan, there's no point pretending to be shy now!" Ste laughed at Lucas.

"Yeah, Princesses aren't shy now, are they?" Brendan cooed to the little girl who clung to him. She poked her head out a bit at that and looked at Declan tentatively.

"Hey, Leah," Declan grinned. "Nice to meet ye."

Lucas peered around Ste's legs at him, too.

"Alright Lucas?" Declan called to him.

"Why's her name Barnes, not Hay? Isn't that Ste's name?" Paddy chirped up.

There were a few moments awkward silence, and Declan glared at Paddy. Eventually, Ste said "Barnes is Leah and Lucas's Mummy's surname, Paddy."

"Oh," said Paddy, ungraciously.

"Hey," Brendan said, "play nice Padraig!"

"What?" the boy grumbled, "I was only asking."

"It's fine," Ste replied, trying to be kind. It was just a question, after all. "Don't worry about it."

But Paddy glared at him. Damn, he'd really hoped Paddy's hatred had been in his head. It really wasn't, was it?

He caught Declan's eye. Thankfully he looked much happier to see him. "So Dad said we could have a kick about," he said.

"Alright," said Ste. "And you two are gonna play on the swings with Brendan right?"

Leah nodded into Brendan's neck. Lucas wobbled for a moment – the big boys were big, and then emerged from his father's legs, and toddled over to his sister. Brendan scooped him up too, and held them, one under each arm, as they wriggled and giggled, and carried them to the swings.

Ste had second thoughts about that.

"Come on Ste," shouted Declan, and threw a ball at him.

* * *

><p>By the time they had reached the restaurant, Declan would have dared Padraig not to like Ste.<p>

They'd had a great laugh. Ste was a decent footballer, but didn't just let them win, though they did have to stop playing occasionally when one of his kids fell off something (Declan suspected his father was distracted by their football game.) They went for lunch at a pizza place, where Dad ate like an animal and Ste spent most of his time making sure his kids had enough healthy stuff to eat. They were much less into the public displays of affection than Dec's Ma and her partners had been, but there was something about them, a deep way they fitted together. There was a real sense of trust there.

Like, when they were waiting for the food, Declan could see them making sneaky eye contact, and the smiles they brought from each other. When Dad spotted something interesting from the kitchen, he pointed out, and took the opportunity of them all turned away to sneak a hand onto Ste's leg, who would return with a playful glare and then return the hand. He hoped that Paddy would see that. It would hopefully point out to him that their relationship wasn't lead by Ste alone. He didn't know if it would though.

* * *

><p>Paddy's father and brother had given him proper evil glares when he'd asked about the little girl's surname. He was only asking. He wanted to know. He didn't know any brothers and sisters with different surnames.<p>

Ste had been the only one who hadn't reacted as though he'd set a starving lion on them all. Paddy had had to glare at him extra hard to remind himself Ste was evil.

So, the football had been fun. Ste wasn't a show off, like Paddy's Dad when it came to anything that wasn't football, or Mam's friends, or even Granddad. It was really annoying when Dad kept turning up with one or other of the little kids crying in his arms, and the football had to pause while Ste calmed them down. But that probably wasn't Ste's fault. It was probably Dad's.

And the restaurant was alright too. There was something about the way Dad behaved around Ste. He'd always been kind of distant in the past. It was like that before he left and every time he visited. Now, with them altogether, it was like he had learnt to be honest. He was really with them, and loving them. It felt like a family.

But that wasn't right, was it? Ste was a man. Families weren't two men. And what about their Mam? No, Ma, Dad, Declan and Paddy. That was the family. That was who the family should be!

But Dad was happy. Paddy realised he'd never seen that before.

But no! It wasn't real! Granddad had told him that. And everyone knew two men being together was disgusting and wrong. And Ste was evil. Granddad had said so.

As Ste pulled his son onto his lap and gently wiped tomato sauce off his face, Paddy found it hard to remember that.

He was confused now. He had to talk to Granddad.

"I'm going to the toilet," he said, standing up quickly.

"Alright son, don't be long," his Dad replied.

"Wait up," Ste called, "I've got to take our Lucas."

"I don't need help!" sulked the three-year-old. "I can go by myself at home."

"Yeah, but they won't have steps to these ones," he smiled. "Bren…" he stopped, then changed his mind, "Declan, could you keep an eye on our Leah?"

"Sure, Ste," replied Paddy's goody goody brother.

"Thanks. Don't want to explain any more grazed knees to Amy, do I?"

"Hey," said Dad, "they're quick when they want to be!"

"She's five!"

"And a future Olympian," Dad countered. "Plus we had the best game of snot monster ever, didn't we Leah?"

"Yeeeeeah!" cheered the little girl.

"Yeah, yeah," mumbled Ste, but Paddy could see the grin on his face.

As they wandered through the restaurant, Paddy thought Ste kept glancing at him. He wasn't sure though, until Ste said "Are you alright, Patrick?"

Paddy huffed. "It's Padraig."

Ste grimaced, "I know, but your Mum had a go at me for saying it wrong. Do you mind if I call you Paddy?"

"'Spose," grumbled Paddy. It was better than never having his name said wrong all the time.

Ste grinned at him, "Thanks Paddy. 'Ere, our Lucas was well jealous of our football game, weren't ye?"

Lucas hid his face in his father's T-shirt. Ste laughed.

"I think that's a yes!"

"Yeah," mumbled Paddy.

"Do you play football much at home?" Ste asked.

"No. I play rugby."

"Cool," Ste replied, "are you on a team?"

"Yeah," Paddy replied, fighting his desire to tell Ste all about slaughtering the team from St Peter's last week. "We're quite good," he said instead.

"Yeah?" Ste prompted, looking at him questioningly.

"Yeah," mumbled Paddy, trying to keep his need to show off down.

"I think there's a team at the college, you know. They were always making a mess at the club. We could find out if there's a match while you're here if you want."

They'd got to the toilets, and Ste stood in front of a cubicle waiting for an answer. It was hardly the millennium stadium, but he was at least trying to think about what Paddy might enjoy.

"Alright," said Paddy, with minimal enthusiasm.

"Great!" said Ste, "look, I better take Lucas in here; he ain't got the hang of urinals yet." He disappeared into the cubical with his son, and Paddy used the facilities.

* * *

><p>"Wave bye to Brendan, Declan and Paddy, guys," Ste cooed to his kids, as they stood in the doorway after Brendan had insisted on walking them home. The kids jumped up and down as they waved. They were going to be a nightmare to get to bed tonight. After the restaurant, Brendan had taken them all bowling, and had fed them sweets whenever they missed. Which was often as they were so tiny and a long way from bowling straight. Then they had more junk for tea. He was expecting Leah and Lucas to be bouncing off the walls.<p>

Amy had taken the opportunity of free babysitting to go out, even though it was a Sunday. He wasn't sure if he expected her home that night,

"Go and get your pyjamas on," he told the kids, "the first ready for bed gets to choose the story."

They both dashed to their room to get changed. Ste trudged into the kitchen to put the kettle on before he could collapse on the sofa. But someone was already there.

He jumped a foot at the sight of Mr Brady sat leisurely on a chair in his kitchen. At first he was at a loss. At another time in his life he may have turned and run the other way, but there were two reasons, currently having a pyjama race, that meant he couldn't leave now. He simply froze. Not the strongest first move.

"Steven," smirked Brady.

"Get out!" Ste managed.

"Now, that's not very friendly is it?"

"Get out of my flat!" Ste repeated.

"What, after a lovely, family day, you're going to throw out the patriarch, without even offering a cup of tea?"

"I said, get out!" Ste said again, fighting to keep his voice low, aware that shouting could bring the children straight into danger.

"And here I was with some friendly advice."

"I'm calling Brendan," Ste said, pulling out his phone.

"There's no need, boy," cooed Brady, "I'll be out in no time once I've said my piece."

Ste didn't answer, just unlocked his phone, and found the number.

"One chance, boy," hissed Brady, "one last chance to walk away, leave my family alone, or I will destroy you."

Ste hit dial. "It's ringing!" he said, only half heeding Brady's words.

"This is it, Steven, one last chance." Brady's voice was so similar to the one Brendan used to use to excuse the beatings, it sickened Ste.

"No?" Brady continued, "Ah, well, I'll be going then. But don't say I didn't warn you."

And he strolled out the door just as Brendan answered with a cocky "Don't say ye miss me already?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks again for reading and reviewing. **

**This chapter will probably let some of you know where it's all going. If you can guess, feel free to PM me, but please don't give it away where anyone else can read!**

**Apologies again for any one armed typos! x**

Padraig didn't understand why that one phone call had put his Dad in such a snappy mood, or meant that they'd all had to run back to Ste's grotty little flat even though they were already nearly back at Dad's!

He did understand why Cheryl had come to pick him up from Ste's. That was because he'd made a huge fuss about sleeping on the floor. He didn't understand, though, that if Granddad really was so dangerous, why Dad was staying to look after Ste rather than his own son.

Well, obviously that was because Granddad wasn't dangerous. At all. And Paddy needed to talk to him.

Thankfully Declan had been an annoying prat, and said he didn't mind the sofa (though why he got the sofa when Paddy was offered the floor was something else Paddy didn't understand). Well that suited Paddy, anyway. Declan was being annoyingly all seeing nowadays so him staying at Ste's meant Paddy only had to get past Cheryl. The moment they got into Dad's flat, she'd turned on the telly and landed on the sofa. As Paddy planned his evening, she was sprawled on the cushions, dressed in a very un-Cheryl-like, grey, stained tracksuit, watching some rubbish chat show. He'd gone straight up to his room and found the precious piece of paper in his bag, along with the forty pounds his Grandfather had given him.

He sneaked carefully down the stairs, impressing himself with his own stealth when Cheryl didn't notice, (she didn't even show signs of life, and if he hadn't needed to get going, he might have worried a bit about her). He slipped through the back door, avoiding Cheryl's line of sight all the way.

No one had given him a spare key (they probably thought he wouldn't need one,) so he carefully left the door on the latch, before running as quietly as a twelve year old can. It was still light outside, and it didn't take Padraig long to find a taxi. He showed the driver the paper, the address of a B&B near Chester, and within five minutes was pulling up outside. He even got change from his £10 note.

* * *

><p>"This was a lucky break, ey?" Brendan whispered.<p>

They were lying down, facing each other, on Ste's bed. The only light came from a lamp on each bedside table. No part of them was touching, but the feeling of closeness was as beautiful as any painting. At least, Ste thought it was. Voicing that aloud would probably break the spell. Brendan may have grown, but he wasn't above pointing out when things get too girly.

"What?" Ste said instead, "finding your psycho Dad in my kitchen?"

"I was thinking more of the bit where we get to spend the night together," Brendan smirked, and closed the small distance between their lips and kissed Ste gently. Ste enjoyed the kiss, as he always would with Brendan, but when Brendan's hand found its way to his thigh he pulled away.

"Oi, your son is just on the other side of that door."

But Brendan wasn't going to let a little thing like that stop him.

"He'll be fast asleep by now," he purred going in for another kiss.

"Er, at fourteen? I don't think so, somehow. He's prob'ly still texting."

"No way," replied Brendan, trying for a kiss again.

"Er, yes, Granddad, how long since you were fourteen?"

Brendan play glared at him. Ste wasn't sure if he'd really upset him, so added, "Lucky I like older men, ey?"

Brendan kissed him again, and feeling forgiven, Ste let him until the hand reached his arse, when he picked it up and put it back on Brendan's half of the bed.

"Declan," he said, simply, and nodded towards the door.

Brendan huffed. He tended to behave like a spoilt child when Ste turned him down. It made Ste smile – at least they were both finding the celibacy hard, however short term.

"I thought it was Padraig that made the blue balls law necessary, anyway," Brendan grumbled.

"Yeah, I told ye, if Paddy doesn't like me, I don't want to rub the fact that I'm sleeping with his Dad in his face. That doesn't mean we need to invite Declan to watch."

"It's not you he doesn't like, it's…" Brendan took a deep breath, "he's getting teased at school. They're saying his Dad's a murdering queer."

"Oh," said Ste, and worried about that for a bit.

"So…" Brendan prompted.

"So?"

"So can we have sex now?"

"Brendan!"

"Alright, alright! You're no fun when you're being all responsible."

"Well, one of us has to be."

Brendan laughed at that. Ste smiled too.

"You know," he said, thoughtfully, "I think I made progress with Paddy today."

"Yeah?" Brendan prompted.

"Yeah. He said he liked rugby, so I said I'd take him to see them play rugby at the college. They were always in the club on a Wednesday, weren't they? That's probably when they play, so I thought we'd try and get to watch or something. He seemed up for it, you know." Ste smiled at that small success.

"Well, you're not just a pretty face, are ye?" Brendan smiled.

Ste sighed. "But, like, I've blown it now, haven't I? Dragging you all back here for an old man with an hole in his shoulder."

Brendan took his hand, "It's not your fault."

"But what's he doing here Brendan?"

"Steven," said Brendan, soothingly, taking Ste's face in his hands, "I promised I'd protect ye, and I will, yeah? And that goes for Amy and the kids, too, yeah?"

"But you shouldn't have to…"

"But I will. I love you Steven."

The ridiculous grin he got whenever Brendan said the L word broke through Ste's worries and onto his face.

"I love you too," he replied,

This time when they kissed, he didn't stop Brendan until the hands got inside his clothes.

"Declan!" he warned.

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Brendan, resignedly.

* * *

><p>Paddy spotted his grandfather arriving at the B&amp;B on foot just as his taxi pulled away.<p>

"Granddad!" he shouted, and ran to him. Granddad looked at him coldly, and he remembered; Granddad didn't like them behaving like soppy girls, hugging all the time. It was OK to be hugged and get kissed by Grandma and Mam, but men didn't do that sort of thing.

He stopped running, and tried to make it look like a casual trot. "Alright?" he said, attempting to look manly.

"Padraig," greeted Granddad, "how've ye been?"

"Alright," he replied, "Ste was well freaked out. Did you go and scare him?"

"'Course not, Padraig, I just asked him politely if we could talk. He made a huge fuss and refused, and then called your Dad. I didn't want to fight, so I left."

"Right," said Paddy, trying to imagine this.

"How's it been for you, though? Having to deal with him all day?"

"Oh, er…" Paddy didn't know what to say now he was in front of Granddad. He had a feeling 'He seems to make Dad happy,' or 'it was quite fun' would not please his Grandfather. But the hesitation seemed to be enough to stir the old man's displeasure.

"Padraig," Granddad growled, "he hasn't got to you, too, has he?"

"No!" Paddy denied quickly, because it was the same voiced Granddad used to accuse him of things he shouldn't do.

"He has, hasn't he?" hissed Granddad, getting his face too close to Paddy, "what, did he smile at you, and talk about feelings, like some soppy girl?"

"No…"

"Did he pretend to care? Because he does that, Padraig. He pretends to be what he's not. He can pretend to be all innocent, and sweet, when all he wants is to rip your world away from ye, to destroy you."

"I…"

"What did he do, Paddy?" Granddad demanded.

"He offered to take me to a rugby game."

There was a moments silence, so Paddy continued, trying to fill it under that cold blue glare. "He played football with Dec and me, and then later when it was just me and him, he asked if I…"

"What do you mean, just you and him?" Granddad interrupted, sternly.

"Er…"

"Spit it out boy. It was just the two of yis? Where were ye?"

"Er… in the restaurant…"

"So, where were the others?"

"Er…"

"Padraig," Granddad was so intense, so firm, it scared Paddy, you said you were alone with Steven, how did that happen?"

"We went to the toilet at the same time."

Granddad looked at him, with a strange, almost disbelieving look in his eyes. Then he started to laugh. Paddy frowned. It must be a funny joke for Granddad to laugh that hard at it. Should he laugh to? Pretend he got it? It lasted some time.

"Good boy Padraig," Granddad said eventually, though Paddy wasn't sure what he'd done that warranted that. "Time for step two."

And Granddad told Padraig exactly how to destroy Ste's life. Completely.


	8. Chapter 8

**AU - Sorry about the wait. Trying to get it right. Easier said than done.**

Morning. It was the sunlight dribbling through the curtains that told Padraig that it was time to get up. He hadn't really slept at all during the night, worrying about what he had to do when the sun came up. What he had to do now.

'He's dangerous,' Granddad had said, 'all the more dangerous because he gets inside your head and makes you think he's some nice bloke.'

But Mam had said the same about Granddad. It was the only reason Paddy had ever been given for the sudden loss of contact.

Maybe Ste deserved it. What he did was wrong, after all. Everyone knew a family should be a Mam, a Dad and the kids, not a Mam and two Dads in different houses on different sides of the sea.

He knew which room was Cheryl's, so he went straight for it, still in pyjamas, still barefoot. He'd rehearsed what he was to say with Granddad, who'd been specific on what to say to who and how. 'Start with Cheryl,' Granddad had told him, 'She'll react properly.'

Padraig had an inkling of what properly meant to Granddad. He'd heard some fathers talking at a rugby game once, and he wasn't sure Ste deserved what they described. But Granddad knew best, didn't he? He only wanted what was best for the family.

He knocked on Cheryl's door. The only response he received was a muffled groan. He knocked again and, when the response was the same, cautiously opened the door and walked in.

Cheryl looked a state. Her hair, usually vivacious ringlets, was a mixture of limp greasiness and frizzy mess. Her skin, too, was greasy, and dotted with makeup stains, and on the front of her tracksuit, the same she'd been wearing all the previous day, were stains from ice-cream and various other food stuffs.

"Auntie Cheryl?" he called, lightly tapping her hand. 'Sound younger than ye are, call her Auntie,' Granddad had told him. "Auntie Cheryl?" he repeated.

Cheryl grumbled but seemed to emerge a little from her sleep. "Pradraig?" she croaked.

"Yes, it's me," he answered, shakily.

"What are you doing in here, love?" She slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"Can I tell ye something?" he asked, trying to look shy as Granddad had instructed.

"Can it wait a bit love? I haven't even had a coffee yet." Cheryl laughed sadly, as she indicated her early morning self.

"Er…" Granddad hadn't given instructions for this. Would insisting on now spoil the shy act? Would not insisting expose the lie? Thankfully, Cheryl made the decision.

"Oh, I'm sorry love, of course it must be important to brave me at this time in the morning, looking like a wicked witch from a fairytale," she said, smiling kindly, "go on love."

"Well…" and Paddy hesitated. This was his last chance to back out, to just let things happen as Dad wanted. He thought of his father's happy grin as they ate together, the sneaky hand on Ste's leg they thought he hadn't noticed. Then he thought about Granddad, and how angry he would be if Paddy failed. "It's Ste…" he started.

"What about him, love?" asked Cheryl, and Paddy spotted the slight pursing of her lips. Granddad was right; she was still angry with Ste for the lies.

"Well… yesterday, he…"

He hesitated. Granddad had told him to hesitate. 'Look like you don't want to tell, but have to,' he'd said. "Yesterday…" he started again.

"Go on love, you can tell me anything," Cheryl encouraged, a hopeful glint in her eye.

"Ste… sort of… touched me."

Cheryl seemed to stop breathing. "Touched ya?" she repeated.

"Yeah…" he mumbled.

"where?" she asked.

"In the toilets, at the restaurant. Dad and Declan were at the table, and it was just the two of us, and…"

He stopped. He didn't know what else to say, and Granddad had told him unfinished sentences were good.

Cheryl looked shocked for a few moments, then pulled him into a hug. "Oh, you poor wee darling!" she cried, "how awful! You know, I always knew there was something wrong with that Ste, always making out he's a victim. You know, he was the same about your Dad before he started on your Granddad, but it never stopped him sleeping with him did it? But your Dad never denied it, so… but he's shown his true colours now, hasn't he?" And Cheryl burst out of bed with renewed energy.

"Come on," she cried, "we've got to tell your Dad. He'll beat the little bastard to a bloody pulp."

* * *

><p>Brendan stole a kiss from Steven in the doorway as he and Declan left. Steven pretended to be cross, but Brendan could see the tell tale signs of happiness – the grin he was trying to push down and hide, the sparkle in the eyes, and he felt kind of proud of himself, and satisfied by Declan's barely noticeable smile.<p>

"How was the sofa?" he asked, as they swaggered across the village.

"Like sleeping on a small rock," Declan replied, smiling, and Brendan laughed.

"You could have gone back with Cheryl and Paddy."

"Nah," said Declan," I wanted you to know that I approve, you know, of you and Ste."

Brendan smirked. "When did you become such a decent bloke, ey? You didn't get it from your Dad, that's for sure."

Dec smiled at him, "I don't know; he's not so bad."

A pleasant silence bloomed between them, as they enjoyed the sunshine and each other's company on their way home, but eventually Brendan needed to ask the question that had been plaguing him.

"How's your brother er... coping with everthing?"

"Oh, he's just being a little prick. He'll get over it."

The casualness of Declan's response took him by surprise. "Hey, don't talk about your brother like that," he warned.

Declan had the grace to look chastised. "Sorry, he's just getting on my nerves, calling Ste a queer and stuff. Like, he doesn't even know him, does he?"

Brendan's heart broke a little. Was there any hope if Padraig could talk like that?

Declan must have read his expression.

"Chill out Dad, he'll grow out of it."

"You think?" Brendan asked, hope fluttering a little.

"'Couse. And there's no way he can still properly hate Ste after yesterday, we had a great time."

Brendan felt the pressure in his heart ease a little as they continued on their way home.

Which was a state.

There were empty food packets everywhere, and some stains where liquids had dribbled onto floors and surfaces. Brendan instantly regretted letting Paddy come back with Cheryl, he'd had no idea she'd got this bad.

"Padraig?" he shouted, "Cheryl?"

"Ha! There he is!" screeched a triumphant voice from upstairs.

"Cheryl!" He shouted again, "get down here! I leave you looking after my son for one night! Look at this place!"

Cheryl cantered down the stairs. "Never mind that, Brendan…"

"Never mind that? Cheryl, this place is a health hazard! Sort yourself out!"

"Brendan, it's about Ste…"

"Yeah, I know you're upset but…"

"And Padraig," she interrupted.

"I know, I know, he doesn't like Steven. They'll get there, Chez. He's just freaked out by the…"

"No, Brendan. Ste molested Padraig yesterday."

Brendan could not have understood that right!

"What?"

"In the bathroom at the restaurant apparently. Paddy told me everything this morning. He's shockingly upset."

"No…" Brendan managed through his shock.

"You know, I always knew there was something funny about that lad, I mean, two kids before he's twenty, one of them not even his, living with the woman he used to beat up, then all that rubbish with Dad. I knew I couldn't believe a word he said…"

But Brendan was already out the door, a sickness and anger like he'd never felt coursing through his veins, and powering his run. He heard voices calling him back, but he didn't even hesitate. His feet pounded the ground so hard it started hurting, but it barely touched the red mist that coated him and suffocated him, and only grew the closer he got to the flat.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I think I keep writing marmite stories. **

**So, a few of you have said that you can't keep reading if such and such happens. Obviously, I'm not going to tell you here whether it does or not, but I will say I love Stendan. I started writing fic because there wasn't any on TV and I physically needed them. I now understand why the writers find it hard, they are so volatile! But I love them. So, even if I can't tell you how it ends, know that. I adore Stendan.**

**Thanks for all the reviews! Keep them coming!**

Brendan pounded on the door, expecting it to fall in from the fury in his fists. It rattled in its hinges, but when it finally gave way it was only opened by the confused face it revealed.

"Bren…" Steven started, but didn't even finish the name. Brendan grabbed his collar, his neck, he wasn't sure and thrust him backwards until he hit the wall.

"Did ye do it? Did ye touch him? Did ye?" He had no control over his voice, he must have shouted the words. He saw his spit hit the terrified face before him.

"Did I what?" Steven's reply was angry, sassy, but betrayed by the fear on his face.

"Did you touch Padraig? Did ye?" He was still shouting, but other sounds were beginning to permeate his consciousness, break through the thought of anyone hurting his son; a child screaming, a baby bawling, his elder son's voice shouting 'Dad.' He could see Steven's eyes, and within them, even through the fear, that same disappointment; the one Brendan had caused again and again, by every denial, every punch.

That look only fuelled his anger. He tightened his grip at the sight, and the tears that were forming.

"DID YOU TOUCH PADRAIG?" he screamed.

Steven's tears were falling now. God, were they tears of guilt? They couldn't be, could they?

Declan was shouting at him.

"Think about it Dad! When would he have? They were never on their own!"

Tears were falling down Brendan's face now.

"In the bathroom! He said in the bathroom!"

"So, in front of his son? In front of Lucas?"

He was riddled with confusion, disgust and anger. He had to know, he had to be sure, he knew what it was like to not be believed. His hands were loosening on Steven, his thoughts wild, he turned to the bawling toddler.

He had only taken two steps when Steven was in front of him, pushing him back.

"You stay away from my son! You don't go near him! Do you hear me?"

Brendan almost didn't stop. Steven was already pushing him away, and when Brendan tried to push him aside, the fist came out.

Steven had never punched him before. He'd tried once, and he'd hit him from behind with a baseball bat, but never really tried to fight him. Probably because he knew he couldn't win. Brendan felt the punch, but more its surprise than its pain. He put his hand to his face.

Steven seemed to notice what he'd done at the same moment. He paled and stepped away from Brendan. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm sorry Brendan." He looked confused, like he was trying to decide if he should protect the kids or lead Brendan away from them, but mostly scared, as though he was expecting the beating of his life. Was that guilt? Brendan was falling apart at the seams.

"Did you molest Padraig?" he growled.

Steven looked shocked and disgusted by the question. Maybe that was the first moment he'd understood what he was being asked. "Of course I didn't!" he shouted.

"What on Earth's going on?"

An ashen faced Amy had just arrived home. She took in the screaming children, the heavy breathing, the tension, and jumped to the most obvious conclusion about what had happened. She glared at Brendan.

"Did you beat him up again? In front of the kids? In front of your kid?"

Brendan knew he hadn't; he'd done something just as bad.

Steven answered. "No, Amy…"

"Then why are they screaming?" she demanded, going to them and letting them cling to her, holding them protectively.

"Paddy's accused Ste of … something." It was Declan who answered. He was probably the only one able.

Amy frowned. "Of what?"

"Of…" but even Declan seemed unsure of how to answer now. Steven finished keeping his eyes on Brendan.

"Of touching him."

Amy's eyes widened. "You mean…"

"Yeah."

"Well he's obviously lying!" Amy exclaimed, glaring at Brendan.

Jesus, how had she come to that decision so quickly and easily? Maybe because it wasn't her kid they were talking about. She'd never had the red mist suffocating everything else.

"Amy, could you take Leah and Lucas out somewhere please? Somewhere they can calm down?" Mike's maybe." Steven's voice was so cold, so quiet. He could barely look at the kids or their mother. "Please," he repeated. Brendan, too, stared at the floor in shame.

"OK," Amy replied with dignity. "We will be back in two hours, and HE better be gone."

It took her time to leave. Brendan remembered that from when his kids were little, every time they went anywhere it could be like packing for a weekend away. In that time, as he stood awkwardly in Steven's kitchen, he felt his anger ebbing away, replacing itself with shame and confusion.

"I need to see Paddy," Dec said suddenly, and walking out. Brendan thought about following, but Dec suddenly turned. "Er, we probably should have said, but we didn't wanna upset anyone and… well… Paddy was sent home from school one day last week… and the first person to answer the call was… there was no one at home except Granddad."

Then he turned and left. Brendan saw Steven freeze at the words, but then seem to shrink, like he was closing in on himself.

Amy left noisily, the kids still clinging to her. Steven shrank even more at the sight.

There was silence for a while in the empty kitchen, as both men stood stiff with shame or misery. Eventually Steven said "You can't come here anymore, Brendan."

"Steven…" Brendan started.

"I can't let you scare them like that. I can't let me behave like that in front of them, I can't…"

The tears fell now. Brendan could see them flowing, unstoppable, heartbreaking.

"Did he just tell you or… or anyone else?"

Steven's voice was tiny, like it came from so far away. Maybe it did, maybe Steven was further away than he'd ever been. Maybe Brendan would never be allowed to just be with him.

"Cheryl told me…"

Before he even finished, Steven slammed his fist into the wall, and let out a sound of fury and misery. It shocked Brendan. It was usually him who lost his temper, he'd never seen Steven like that.

Suddenly, Steven was shouting, "I've got kids! They'll take them away, put them in care homes! I'll be hated Brendan! I'll never be allowed to see 'em. Even if we can prove I didn't… God, this'll destroy me!" Realisation hit him, "Like he said. He said he was gonna destroy me and he has! You know what they do to people like that… they'll…" and suddenly he stopped. He was staring at the fridge, which was covered with the kids drawings, and Leah's first attempts at writing. The horror of losing them must have hit home as he stared at it.

Brendan took a step forward, intending to offer support, or something. The movement seemed to snap Steven out of his trance. With the barest glance at Brendan, he snatched something off the fridge and shoved it into his pocket.

"I…" he said, "I'm going… Don't follow me Brendan!"

And he too walked out, leaving Brendan alone in the silent flat.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Short one. Enjoy!**

**Please keep reading and reviewing! Always good to hear from you.**

Hey, you little prick!" Declan shouted as he arrived at his father's flat, feeling hatred for his little brother. "Where are ye?"

Cheryl, who was sitting on the sofa in the living area, looked shocked at his words. "Don't talk to your brother like that!" she cried, "he's had a traumatic experience! He needs our support!"

"Yeah right, and I'm Cheryl Cole!" he replied with maximum scorn, "get down here you little prat!"

There was the sound of hurried footsteps from upstairs, and Declan sprinted up there in time to see Padraig running for the bathroom, the only room with a lock. Dec caught up in time to stop the door closing by shoving a foot in the way, which hurt like hell and made him even angrier. "Open the door!" he shouted.

"No!" shouted Paddy back, leaning all his weight against the door, trying to get it closed.

"Open it!"

"No!" Paddy repeated, "get lost!"

"What on Earth are you doing Declan?" Cheryl had caught them up, and was trying to look strict.

"Tell her it was a lie!" Declan shouted at Paddy.

"No!"

"Tell her!"

"No!"

"He wouldn't lie about something as important as this, Declan!" Cheryl interrupted.

"They weren't even alone though, Cheryl! Lucas was with them. Ste never touched him!"

"Declan, how can you accuse…?"

"How can I? He's accused an innocent man of kiddy fiddling because of a bit of name calling!" Declan turned back to the door, "Did Granddad put you up to it?"

There was no response.

Cheryl glared at the door. "Padraig, tell Declan you've told the truth!"

There was a sob from the bathroom.

"Padraig, tell Cheryl the truth!" shouted Declan.

"Leave me alone" sobbed Paddy through the door.

"Padraig?" questioned Cheryl, doubt appearing on her face.

"Leave me alone!" Padraig repeated through his sobs.

"Did Granddad tell you to do it Padraig?" Declan asked again, more kindly this time.

More sobs were all he heard.

"Cheryl," he said softly, "please tell me you haven't told anyone else."

Cheryl shook her head. "I was waiting for Brendan, but… but it wasn't a lie, was it Paddy?"

Both had softened their voices at the sound of the sobs.

"It was, Cheryl. Granddad hates Ste, so he told Paddy what to say."

Cheryl had gone pale. "That's not right, is it Paddy? You wouldn't lie about … about something like that!"

The sobs were getting more frequent, but Paddy still wasn't letting them into the bathroom. They'd reached a kind of stalemate until he admitted the truth or tried to lie again. Declan kept his foot in the door, trying to think how he could prove Paddy a liar.

"Go check his phone," he said. Paddy didn't respond, so he probably had his phone in his pocket. "I'll go and check his bag," he said, and taking the risk, moved his foot from the door.

"No!" shouted Padraig, and Dec felt a small sense of triumph, and sprinted to their bedroom. He heard the bathroom door slam open, and expected Padraig to follow him, trying to stop him. He didn't realise he was only being followed by Cheryl until he'd tipped the entire contents of Padraig's bag all over the floor.

"Where did he go?" he asked, just before the front door slammed shut below them.

* * *

><p>To Ste, the world seemed a detached, distant place, like it was part of a dream, barely penetrating the turmoil that reigned inside of him. It was quite a walk to the Bed and Breakfast, but he knew the way. He'd checked the paper a hundred times before he was even halfway there. It had stood out like a sore thumb to him, on the fridge, dumped so rudely over Leah and Lucas's wonderful drawings. It was a flyer, complete with address, telephone number and map, for a B &amp; B near Chester. Ste knew who had put it there.<p>

The worst thing was how defeated he felt. There was nothing he could do to fight. But Brady must have put the leaflet there for a reason. Maybe there was still hope.

He had no doubts that Brady was behind it all. It couldn't be anything else; the threats last night, and Paddy's lies. They all pointed him in the same way.

He'd been so sure he'd made progress with Paddy. If he hadn't been so scared, he might have been hurt that the kid could hate him so much.

The B&B looked so normal; a big house with a sign outside. He wondered if they'd let him in, but it only took a moment's thought to know that they would. The leaflet had been left for a reason.

He rang the doorbell, but realised the door was unlocked so pushed it open. A plump woman was cleaning a hallway inside, and looked up as he came in.

"You've got a guest called Brady?" he asked her.

She looked at him coldly, "I can't give out the names of our guests," she scowled.

"He's expecting me. Tell him it's Ste."

The woman scowled, and snarled "Wait here," then stomped moodily up the stairs. Ste took deep breaths to steady himself, and studied the twee and faded landscape picture on the walls. The woman wasn't long. She stamped back down the stairs less than a minute later. "First floor, second door on the right," she grumbled, clearly disappointed that she didn't get to throw him out, and started cleaning again.

Ste followed her directions until he stood in front of the closed white door. He stared at it for a moment, before walking in.

**AN: Not long, will try to update quickish though.**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Not sure how quick the next few will be. Thanks again for the reviews! **

The room was pretty typical of a bed and breakfast. The walls, a dull shade of magnolia, were spotless and blank. In the centre was a double bed, made neat and tidy, and the furniture was light pine; wardrobe, table and two chairs, and a second door that probably lead to an en-suite. Sprawled in one of the chairs, face plastered with the most infuriating, triumphant smirk, sat Brady.

"Steven," he greeted.

Ste didn't say anything, as he stepped in and closed the door behind him. He didn't lock it, hoping to have an escape route should he need it. He kept his gaze just below Brady's face; he knew that was what Brady wanted, and Brady was leading this show.

"What?" sneered the Irishman, "no snarky comments? No shouting? No pretending you have any control?"

Still Ste stayed silent. Tears were seeping their way out of his eyes. It was taking a lot of effort not to let this evil man see him cry ptoperly.

"Look at yourself boy; a skinny streak of nothing."

The insult barely penetrated Ste's stupor.

Brady didn't seem to care. "Why have you come here boy?" he asked, leaning casually back in his chair.

"You know," Ste mumbled to the carpet.

The edge of Brady's mouth quirked up. "Maybe I'd like you to tell me, Steven. Was there something you wanted?"

Humiliation then. That was what Brady was after.

"I need it to stop," Ste told the floor. "Please."

"I'm gonna need more than that, Steven," smirked Brady.

Ste took a deep breath. "I need you not to destroy my life please."

Brady laughed a little. "What's it worth Steven? What would you give for me to stop it?"

Now they were getting to it.

"What do you want?" Ste asked resignedly.

"You never see my son again."

"Done," Ste had pretty much decided that one already, anyway.

"That easy?" Brady raised a surprised eyebrow.

Ste nodded, not quite trusting his voice as his heart broke.

"No begging?" taunted Brady, "no pleading? Nothing?" he stood, and stared right in the face. "Wow, not as in love as my son thinks, then."

Ste glared at him. "I'm a Dad!" he snapped, "and you have no understanding of love."

Brady put his head on one side, "And you, boy, have no understanding of being a man."

"Whatever," Ste snapped, "you'll make Paddy tell the truth?"

"When I get what I want."

Ste knew what that was, but pretended not to anyway. It was part of the dance. "You want me to call Brendan here and now? In front of you? He won't just let it stop there, anyway. He's never really given up before."

"He will this time," Brady growled. He sat back down on his chair and watched Ste appreciatively. "Take your clothes off, and lie on the bed."

It was almost laughable that after everything that had happened, Brady still brought it back to this. But this wasn't really about sex for the old man. It never had been. This was all about power. Brady craved it; over Brendan, over Ste, over his own Grandchildren. Manipulating Paddy hadn't just been a means to an end for him; it was a game in control, a power trip in itself.

Ste fidgeted with the bottom of his tee shirt, on the brink of following the instruction in defeat.

"I'm waiting Steven," Brady stated, as if he was discussing the weather.

Ste steeled himself, and pulled his tee shirt over his head, then glanced at Brady hoping this sign of submission would be enough for the old man. But Brady kept his expression expectant. It wasn't enough. Ste toed off his shoes, and then carefully took off his socks. He looked down at his jeans. Could he really do this?

He thought of Leah and Lucas growing up without a father. He could face anything Brady could throw at him for them.

He took off his trousers, and looked again at Brady. Same expression. He took off his boxers, and sat on the bed as gracelessly as he could.

Brady drank in the sight of his body slowly, savouring it like a fine wine. Ste kept his eyes on the floor, as Brady stood and walked to him. "Good boy," the old man cooed, "head bowed, still, submissive. Think of the misery we could have avoided if you'd just done this all those months ago, ey Steven?"

He stroked Ste's cheek, as Ste stared at the floor even more intensely, fighting his needs to fight or run. He was doing this for Leah and Lucas. There was nothing else left to save. Then Brady punched him on the abdomen. Ste almost threw up at the suddenness, though he'd had far worse from Brendan. He curled up and clutched his stomach.

"I want to rape you, Steven, not fuck a corpse. Wake up."

'What?' Ste thought, he'd wanted meek submission a few moments ago. Did he want him to fight now? Ste stood up, to see how he would react. Instantly, Brady knocked him back down with a hard shove. He put up his hands, but Brady grabbed his wrists and held them to the bed.

The violence was probably better really; Ste did not want to ever confuse this with Brendan when he looked back.

Brady roughly flipped him over, onto his front, and pulled his right arm into a painful twist behind his back. He cried out.

"That's it boy," Brady snarled, "beg for mercy." He twisted Ste's arm further, pulling a further cry from Ste's lips. Ste bit his lips, desperate to keep at least some dignity. He felt Brady fiddle at his own groin. Ste thought he must be undoing his trousers, and realised he wasn't even intending to use a condom. He heard the old man groan, and closed his eyes tight, and tried to block out the world.

The door flew open.

"Grand…"

Paddy halted mid word. Ste opened his eyes to stare at him. At twelve years old, how much of what he saw could he possibly understand? Ste tried to move, to hide his nakedness with the bed sheets, but Brady must have been in shock, as he kept a tight grip on Ste.

"What are you doing?" Paddy asked.

Brady's hands loosened, "Padraig…" he started, then let go of Ste, moving to Paddy, "if you say a word…"

Ste interrupted him, "Run home, Paddy! Now!" he shouted. At the words, Brady made a sudden lunge at the boy, but Paddy heard Ste. He ran. Ste dived for his clothes, but had barely found his boxers when suddenly Brady was on him again, punching him, and when he landed on the floor, kicking him. Ste curled into a ball and prayed it would all be over, soon.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks again for the reviews! **

Padraig left the Bed and Breakfast at a run.

When he'd left his Dad's flat at a similar speed earlier that day, he'd been in a state of pure panic. He'd failed his Granddad, his brother was going to beat the crap out of him, and God only knew what his father would do when he found out the whole truth. He'd been panicking about what Dad would do to Ste anyway, when he'd left so angrily, and when he found out it was because of a lie… Paddy didn't dare think.

So he'd run. He hadn't had time to find the leaflet with the address, as he knew that was where Declan was going, but he remembered the name. The driver had made a huge fuss, saying he didn't know every small business in the area, but had called in to find out where it was. Paddy was a bag if nerves before they'd even pulled away. Every moment they spent on the curb was another moment for Declan to find the paper, another chance for Granddad to be discovered. He'd shouted at the driver to get a move on, and he thought he'd actually slowed down.

Granddad had shown him the room at the B & B, so he had run straight up, without thinking. He barely knew what he'd seen before he'd heeded Ste's shout and run out again, as quickly as he'd run in.

He froze on the pavement outside the house, and looked back. Granddad wasn't following. What did that mean? Had he gone back to what he'd been doing before?

"Padraig!" shouted a voice. He saw Cheryl running to him, out of a taxi, and he ran into her arms and clung on for dear life.

"It's OK," she assured him, "it's OK, we can cope with this, OK? No one's gonna hurt you."

She stroked his hair, and held him, letting him feel warm and protected for the first time in so long, but he still couldn't get the image out of his head. He clung to Cheryl and cried, ignoring his brother's scowl, repeatedly looking back at the hotel, waiting for his Granddad to come out angrily, or Ste to arrive, broken and pale, and looking barely older than Declan.

Paddy knew he'd done so much wrong, hurt people so badly. He didn't deserve Cheryl's love and forgiveness. He deserved Declan's glares, the harsh questions he was demanding answers to so angrily.

But Padraig knew what he had to do.

He took Cheryl's hand and led her through the door, back into the bed and breakfast, and up the stairs. His feet seemed heavier the closer he got to that room. The door was closed again, but he couldn't hear the noises, the sickening terrifying noises. Grunts, thuds, quiet pleading.

He'd hoped he would find something different. Or that he'd wake up, back in his own bed in Belfast, with Mam stressed and angry, Dad absent and where Granddad was the fun, gentle and generous old man who brought them treats. But he could never go back to that world now.

He looked away from the door, but opened it for Cheryl to look through. She needed to see.

* * *

><p>The painkillers were messing with Ste's head. They were making the world all swirly and sickening. He had been sleeping a lot, most of the time in fact, though he'd tried to be awake and chirpy when the kids came to visit. It was hard going, faking happiness when his world had been stolen from him again.<p>

He may have been over playing the effects of the drugs, but while the doctors thought he was sick enough, they only let in family. That meant to useful things: strictly no police and strictly no Bradys.

He couldn't handle either group right now. He couldn't talk to the police until he knew what Cheryl told them. Finding out what Cheryl told them would involve talking to Cheryl. The same Cheryl who had found him naked, beaten and pleading on the floor. That was not appealing.

Ste shifted in the hospital bed, in his dark thankfully otherwise empty room. It was difficult to get comfy when there wasn't much left that didn't hurt, and your medication was making you sick. At the time he'd covered his head and curled in on himself as the kicks had landed. It hadn't taken very long for Brady to tire of that and to return to his previous intention.

It was probably a good thing that Cheryl had arrived at the moment that she had. It meant that Ste had not actually been raped, which was something to be hugely grateful for already, but also that Cheryl would probably stop telling the world and herself that Ste was a liar, and hopefully wouldn't tell people he was a paedophile either. But it still didn't help him know what to tell the police. If his story didn't match hers, it wouldn't be her labelled a liar. Again.

He wouldn't expect her to tell the whole truth. For one, he would rather never mention Paddy's allegations ever again, and he would rather not put Paddy through all that questioning either. The boy was a victim really. He would never have done what he did without the manipulations of his Granddad. And he wouldn't have been so open to the manipulations if they'd all listened to him in the first place.

So Ste delayed all conversations, except Amy and his kids, whose visits he craved like air. They were the only good thing left.

He didn't know how long Brendan had been there when he finally noticed him, stood beside his bed, watching him patiently.

He almost laughed. "What, you breaking into hospitals now?"

Brendan sniffed, and smirked, "It's not really breaking in, Steven, when ye just walk in. I had to ask more than one nurse for directions, ye know, this place is like a maze."

Ste smiled slightly at the image of Brendan lost. It was oddly endearing. But he didn't speak again, he simply put off the inevitable.

Brendan seemed to be thinking the same way. "I took the boys home. It was a bit early, but… you know. Dec promised to text when they landed and again when they got to the house."

Ste nodded, very gently, trying to avoid the wave of dizziness from the painkillers. Silence fell again, and Ste stared at his hands. He had no clue where to start.

Brendan seemed to.

"Steven, I need you to know, I never really… I never really believed it. Not really… I mean…"

"Yeah," Ste interrupted, "I know."

And he did. They both knew what Brendan, the man who'd cracked Ste's ribs for trying to kiss him at the wrong moment, would have done if he had believed Padraig straight away, and Ste wouldn't have walked away from it. Ste couldn't really blame him for having to ask. Padraig was Brendan's son. It hadn't been so much doubt as a physical reaction in Brendan's body to the idea of anyone doing that to his child. And Ste knew what it was like to not be believed. "I know," Ste repeated, "and I understand."

Brendan seemed to breathe out, as though he was relieved, but Ste hadn't finished.

"There are two people in this world who I will always love more than anything else, who I will always put first, and who I will always love more than you." The words felt harsh as he said them, but they were the truth and so important. "I will always put their happiness before my own, or anyone else's." He looked at Brendan, who was staring at the floor. "And you, Brendan Brady, wouldn't be the man I love, if I didn't know you would do the same."

Brendan paced the room, fidgeting. "I love you, Steven," he said, firmly and honestly.

Ste nodded and sniffed. He knew that, never would doubt it. "But you love Declan and Paddy more" he said. "As it should be."

He could see the glistening in Brendan's eyes as he sniffed too. Then Brendan nodded, just the once, and Ste couldn't hold back the tears. Brendan leant down and kissed him, gently and chastely on the lips, before turning on his heel and marching from the hospital.

Ste cried watching him go.

**I promise it's not over yet.**


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: Gosh, I've taken forever to update. This is because I haven't been near a computer in ages. The story continues in my little red book though, so hopefully not such big gaps in future. Enjoy!**

**Thanks again for reading and reviewing!**

"Three nights please," Brady grumbled instead of a greeting to the smiley woman behind the counter. She didn't go for a key, or look at her computer. She just said: "That's grand, darlin'. You sound local, are ye local?"

The Irish. They did like to talk. "That I am. Been away a while."

"Oh, how long?" she asked, still not showing any sign or intention of doing any work.

Brady sighed, "Nearly thirty years."

"Oh, aye?" she prompted, clearly expecting a more detailed story than that.

"Yeah, I married a girl from Belfast, good catholic girl, but she didn't want to move so far from her Ma, so…"

"Living in Belfast for thirty years with that accent? Can't have been easy."

"No," said Brady coldly, "so, do you have any rooms?"

"Oh, sure, double?" She finally looked at her computer.

"That'd be grand."

"For three nights? That'll be a hundred and thirty Euros, payable on departure, but I'll need to take your credit card now, Mr…?"

"Brody," he said, handing over the credit card he'd achieved through questionable means.

"Welcome back to Dublin, Mr Brody," she smiled, finally handing over the key.

Brady grunted, before following the sulky looking teenager who picked up his bag and dragged his feet, up to the bland hotel room.

Another hotel room. Another night with no contact with his wife and family and no chance of a reunion. Another night staring at four blank walls, fighting the urge to murder the skinny boy who destroyed his life.

Padraig or Steven would do. Probably both would be the most satisfying. Padraig for showing Cheryl into that room, and Steven for being Steven. For ruining his son, for not doing as he was told, for being so bloody attention grabbing, for worming his way into Brady's head, like an obsession.

And he'd been so close. He'd had Steven so scared and vulnerable beneath him, naked except for the marks from Brady's fists. And he'd seen what his son loved about the boy. He was vulnerable and skinny, but there was something so strong about him too. And that concoction – the face, the body, the heart, the strength – they were intoxicating, and still Brady craved them.

But Brady had run. The look in Cheryl's eyes had been enough, and he burned with shame to be caught like that by his own daughter, to be caught out in such a lie. So he'd grabbed his bag, done up his fly and run, from the B & B, from the town, from the country, only to arrive here, an empty hotel room in a city he hadn't been to for thirty years.

He needed to relieve some tension. He couldn't stay here, in this blank hotel room with just his right hands and thoughts of Steven for company. He hadn't yet been brought that low.

He changed his shirt and went out. He knew where he could go to find some pathetic boy with no dignity, someone easy to manipulate. The city might have changed in thirty years, but some things would always stay the same.

It took a few goes to get lucky. He may have kept himself in shape, but he couldn't hide his age completely, and he couldn't help going for a certain type. Skinny, fairer haired, too young for him. He guessed it wouldn't be much good if it didn't help him forget about Steven. Best to go with what his body wanted.

Eventually he spotted someone likely; young, quiet, in need of guidance, clearly unsure of himself and battling his needs against his good Catholic upbringing. If he'd had more time, this was exactly the type he would train up, use when he needed without fear of being discovered, but only once he had complete control. But tonight, he didn't have the time for such luxuries.

Brady knew how to get what he wanted, how to get the innocent to do his bidding. He'd had years of practice. It was a mixture of charm, kindness and the right sort of pressure that could make the unloved, hopeless, confused boy follow you anywhere. Brady took this one back to his hotel room, giving instructions to follow after counting to a hundred; he didn't need people knowing his business after all.

He strolled up to his room, left the door on the latch (he didn't want the boy dawdling in the corridor or waking people up by knocking) then kicked his shoes off before dropping onto the bed. First he'd have the boy suck him off. With a mouth full of cock, Brady could imagine the nose a little smaller, the eyes a little lighter. But that would be just the beginning . He'd need careful handling this one, a firm hand to push him in the right direction, to get him to behave. He thought about those wrists, held and pressed against the mattress, fists clenched in fear and anger.

No, that wasn't what he wanted. It was complete control he craved, not Steven's fight and back chat, and this boy was the right type. He wasn't going to give him any problems.

Brady stood and went into the bathroom to wash his face. He just needed to get rid of that image so he could hate Steven, that was all.

As he splashed, he heard a knock on the hotel door. Stupid kid. " I told ye just to walk in," he called over his shoulder and dried his face.

The door opened and Brady allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction. "Sit on the bed," he ordered, as he checked his appearance briefly in the mirror, before striding into the bedroom, feeling like King of the world.

"I'd rather stand, if it's all the same to you," Brendan greeted conversationally.

Brady good mood slipped away.

"Or were you expecting someone else?" Brendan continued, smugly, "someone skinnier perhaps? Mousy haired? The guy that was counting in the lobby until I told him to get lost?" Brendan smirked, "Yeah, he ain't coming."

Brady cleared his throat, hoping he didn't look as unnerved as he felt. "So what are you doing here, Brendan?" He asked, his mouth was very dry.

"Oh, I just thought I'd check on my old Dad, seeing as you didn't even give us a phone number. Been busy, yeah?"

Brady sniffed, "Yeah, something like that, son."

Brendan glowered at him, "You don't even know what that word means. Son. It means nothing to you."

"Everything I've done, I've done to protect you and our family," Brady protested.

"Liar!" Brendan growled, not shifting, but tensing, like a snake ready to strike, "you did it for you, for power, to keep everyone in your miserable life on fucking strings, and to keep me as miserable and as fucked up as you."

"Bit of a drama queen, now, are ye?" Brady interrupted with contempt.

"But it ain't gonna happen! The cycle stops here. My sons are going to grow up to be whoever they want, they'll grow up loved and protected and at their own speed. And I'll be making sure you never come anywhere near them. I'm gonna let them make themselves happy."

Brady smirked, "What, like you with your Steven? A proper pair of poofs now, are ye? What, is it weddings next?"

Brendan's face flinched, and Brady knew he was hitting the right buttons. "Yeah," he continued, "I thought so. He doesn't love you, does he? You know he came to me of his own free will? Gave you up without a second thought, like he couldn't wait to be rid of you."

Brendan's punch landed on his cheek with no preamble, almost knocking him off his feet. He knew he was getting to Brendan now.

"He's a soppy little gobshite, isn't he? I had him in tears and pleading in minutes."

"Shut up," Brendan growled, clasping his hands together, as though holding himself back.

"What, can't handle the truth?" Brady laughed, "That your precious Steven opened his legs for me like the good little whore he is?"

Brendan let his fists free, and every moment Brady laughed through it, even when he fell to the floor.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" Brendan shouted, as Brady felt blood seeping from his mouth.

"You came here to kill me, didn't you?" Brady laughed, "well, we're not exactly inconspicuous now, are we? You'd arrested within hours." Brady clutched his side, and spat his own blood onto the hotel room floor. "What a good Dad you'll be then."

Brendan glared down at him, moments passing as he thought through his answer. "You're a wanted man," he said, "I'll just hand you over to the police," his voice was disappointed, but serious.

"Except there's the little matter of what Michael Houston said to me." Brady countered. "The police can't figure out why that lad abducted me. I think they'd love to close a few of those holes, like, for example, your connection to Danny Houston? Pulled out of a river round your way, yeah?"

Brendan growled. Brady could see him trying to play it cool, and he almost grinned at the internal struggle.

"Then we're back at plan A, aren't we?" the younger man said.

"Maybe," Brady replied, grimly, "but not today. In the meantime, you won't be passing on my details to any third parties, will ye, son?" He emphasised the last word, arguably just to annoy him. Brendan glared at him, but Brady just met his glare. "Good bye, Brendan," he announced.

**AN: Started chapter with intention to kill of Brady, but he managed to talk himself out of it. He may not have a first name, but he's a clever bastard. x**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Thanks for the reviews. Hopefully getting back up to speed, but not spending much time redrafting...**

Padraig couldn't remember ever feeling this miserable. School was the same, the name calling the same, but now he had real guilt of his own. The kind that ate at him, day in, day out, that wouldn't leave him be even for a moment.

His Dad had sent them home early. He'd told them he would miss them, like he always missed them, but Padraig was terrified of that look in his father's eyes.

It wasn't anger. Padraig would have preferred anger, then he could have shouted back all the ways he felt betrayed by his Dad, all the words the other boys shouted at him, demand why he was the last to know, why he never got to visit. But that never happened, because Dad wasn't angry. He was just so very sad.

Declan was angry though. He didn't talk to Padraig for weeks, except to tell him to get lost.

Mam took a long time to get any answers to her questions. Padraig wasn't going to tell her, and he assumed Declan still had a vague sense of honour and didn't tell on him. Eventually, Mam shouted at them to sort out whatever it was that was making family meals unbearable.

When that didn't work, she took Padraig to Church.

And so, weeks after being sent home, Paddy found himself sat in the old church on the next street, next to a Priest. Father Francis, a middle aged balding man, had a forbidding face, and Padraig knew, instantly, that there was no way he was telling this man anything he'd done wrong. He would burn in hell for all eternity if he did. So, instead, he told the father that he'd had a fight with his brother about boys at school who called him names.

With a frown on his face, the father instructed him to repeat the Hail Mary five times and talk to his brother, then trotted off, presumably to tell Mam, or maybe to let him say his Hail Marys in peace.

Paddy stayed where he was, and glared at the altar. Everything was so confusing now. What was right and what was wrong had got all tumbled in together, and confused, and wrong. He'd been so sure it was Granddad who knew what was right, because Granddad said the same as the priests and the RE teachers at school, and that it was Dad who was in the wrong, because he was a filthy queer. But now the world was on its head.

He knew one thing; Granddad was a liar, and a frightening one, and what he did to Ste was wrong. And Padraig hoped he would never see the old man again. But did that make what Ste and Dad did OK? He was sure that if he asked Father Francis, he would get the answer no, but then why did Declan seem Ok with it?

Then there was Ste and Dad. When they were together, Dad had been happy. Ste had made him happy. Was that enough though? Did that mean it was OK to ignore the priests?

There was a clatter behind him. He twisted in his seat in time to see an old lady struggling with the heavy church door, a vacuum cleaner and a large box. Paddy looked around for anyone else, but when he realised he was alone, he jumped up to help her. He grabbed the door to push it open, and when she was through, offered to take the box.

"Thank ye very much, young man, that's very kind," she said, and gave it to him, "it's just this way, thank ye. I'm just helping to clean the place today."

Padraig's heart sank a little. Was she expecting him to help clean this huge old building now?

"If you could just rest it on a pew there, young man, that's very kind. I don't suppose you could help me get the hoover up those steps there? It's very heavy for one person."

"Er…" Paddy tried to think of an excuse. "I'm meant to be saying Hail Marys…"

"Ohhh," said the old lady, elongating the word, with a twinkle in her eye, "been confessing your sins to the father? Not that they call it that anymore. Bet they didn't even make you sit in the box."

"No, we just sat here."

"And I bet it wasn't much of a confession. Did you tell him the truth?"

Paddy didn't answer. The old lady tutted "see?" she muttered, "who's gonna confess to anything when he's right there next to you like that?"

Paddy shrugged, feeling sadder by the minute.

"But it's not the Priest we make peace with in the end, I suppose. It's the Lord our God who decides if we've been sinners or not. He alone knows the contents of your heart, and he alone shall judge us."

Paddy watched the old lady quietly as she started polishing the choir stalls. "How do you know what He thinks, though?" he asked.

She stopped and looked back at him, quizzically. "Jesus Mary and Joseph, you go straight for the hard questions don't ye?"

Paddy wasn't sure if she wanted an answer to that, but she was looking at the vaulted ceiling. "I suppose, there's the bible, that tells us a lot, but I can't say I've read it all, myself."

"So?" Paddy prompted, "how do you decide?"

"Me? Hmm," she thought a little more, "well, I think you know if something's really wrong. You can see it hurt people. And I think you can tell what's right, too, you know, in here." She tapped her chest, over her heart. "If you make people safe and protected and happy. Without hurting other people, them that's good, isn't it?"

Padraig let that sink in, thinking about her words.

"Like cleaning the church. I volunteer once a week, and so do a lot of other people, and together we make sure it's clean and nice so people can find peace here. That's what I do to be good. Or I let my friends talk to me when they're sad, and help them when they need, so they can find a bit of happiness when they lose it."

Ideas were forming in Padraig's head.

"Help them find a bit of happiness," he repeated.

"Oh, aye, happiness is easy to find, but easy to lose too. Sometimes the right word at the right time is enough to help someone get back on their feet. Sometimes it's much harder. I taught at the girls' school there for forty years, watched them making each other unhappy, but you can only be happy if you help make the people around you happy. Took some of them a long time to work that out."

"Thank you Mrs!" said Paddy, and sprinted to the church. He ran right into Mam who was on her way to find him, and dragged her to the car, so she had to call her good byes to Father Francis over her shoulder. When they were in the car, he sat beside her fidgeting and plotting.

"So…" Mam said, cautiously, as they started the car, "talking to Father Francis helped, Padraig?"

"Er, yeah it was great," Paddy said, grimacing slightly at the untruth.

"Really?" asked Mam, "because the father said he thought you weren't telling him everything."

"No," Paddy said, "but then…" he didn't want to tell her about the old lady, and he wsn't sure why, "but then I prayed, and that, and now I know what to do."

"Er… right," his Mam answered, slowly and thoughtfully, "You know, I'm not sure if I like the sound of that."

"Oh, it's fine," he replied, "I'm going to make it right."

"Make what right?" his Mam asked in confusion.

Paddy grinned.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Yeah, last chapter was a little soppy, mysterious old lady. Was trying to be nice about the church after insinuating a priest was to blame for Brady (a looong time ago now) but failed. I haven't met a Priest I liked though did masses at school for 7 years. Met some awesome nuns though, hence non-specific old lady. She might be a nun.**

**Anyway, on with story.**

One morning Ste woke up and found a handwritten letter on the mat alongside the usual depressing bills and stuff. He couldn't remember ever getting anything like it before. He opened it cautiously but curiously.

_Dear Ste_

_Please don't throw this away before you read it. It's my fifth go already and Declan won't let me use his computer or anything, so I keep having to properly start again._

_Look, I need to say sorry for what I did. I know now it was really really evil and I am really sorry. And it's not just cos Dad and Declan won't talk to me now, I mean it. I am sorry. I want to make it up to you, though I know I never can._

_I'm asking Dad if we can come visit again. Will you let me see you? I'll bring Declan if you don't trust me. I just want to say I'm sorry._

_Padraig_

Ste read it through carefully and slowly, twice, and then worried about what to do.

He did not want to see Padraig. That was certain. Even if he could forgive him so easily for doing something so awful, the boy had seen Ste as Ste would never want anyone to see him, ever. But could he let the boy go on feeling so guilty? He was so young after all.

Ste made a choice.

* * *

><p><em>Dear Padraig<em>

_Thank you for your letter. I do understand that you are feeling sorry, and I forgive you. I know your Granddad was pushing you to do what you did._

_I'm sorry but I can't meet with you. Me and your Dad aren't together anymore, anyway, but I don't hold anything against you._

_I hope you and your Dad and Declan work it out. I know they love you, it just might take time for them to forgive and move on._

_Ste_

The letter had arrived a couple of days after Paddy had sent his own. He read it, feeling sad, realising how mistaken he had been about Ste. He really was such a good man. He hadn't agreed to meet Paddy, but he had replied, being so nice and kind, even though Padraig had hurt him so badly. He'd said he'd forgiven Paddy, and been kind about Dad and Declan.

Paddy put the letter carefully away in a drawer. Phase one was not perfect, but at least he had a clue where to start now. He just needed some help.

He screwed up his courage and knocked on Declan's door.

* * *

><p>Maybe it was too soon.<p>

It had been less than two months since he they'd gone, and Brendan was scared. Could he look Padraig in the face and not show his anger and misery? Should he let either of his boys see the lonely mess he had become?

He did his best not to see Steven. That was a technique he'd tried many times before, and failed. Sometimes he still failed, like when he walked into College Coffee and found himself hanging around long after finishing his drink in the faint hope that Steven might appear. The first time that happened, Amy glared at him, furiously, and he didn't blame her one little bit. Weeks later, Amy's expression turned to pity, and that made Brendan angry.

Because he knew how he looked. He had lost his energy. He felt tired all the time, and he could barely think of a reason to get up in the morning.

But then, maybe, the boys would provide that reason. Some motivation to be sane and normal could be just what Brendan needed.

And Padraig had asked to come. If he was brave enough to face what he had done, then Brendan sure owed him the same.

He met them at the airport, but was unable to summon the sheer joy he'd had so purely last time. H held them when they were near enough though, and felt his love for them warm him.

"So how have you two been?" he asked them.

"Oh, we're getting better," Paddy replied cheerfully.

"Oh," Brendan replied, glancing at Declan in hope of an explanation for this sudden change in Paddy. Dec gave no hints. "That's good."

"Yeah," Paddy said and squeezed his father's hand, bemusing Brendan further.

They had a take away and watched a DVD that night. Brendan felt warmer in their presence, more alive than he had for so long.

Between the three Bradys, the pizzas, vegetarian of course, were gone in a heartbeat, Brendan teasing his boys with the last bit.

At half past nine Padraig volunteered to go to bed.

"Alright…" said Brendan suspiciously, "who are you and what have you done with my son?"

Paddy just grinned back at him. "Night Dad, night Declan," he called, and trotted up the stairs.

Brendan looked at Declan. "Are you gonna pretend that wasn't the weirdest thing you've ever seen?"

"Nah, nowhere near it," Declan replied, "I've met serial killers."

Brendan smiled proudly at him, but worried a little more about Padraig.

Dec interrupted his thoughts. "He's just trying to show you he's grown up a bit, that's all. He thinks he's being responsible."

Brendan wasn't sure he bought that, but let it go anyway.

"So how's Ste?" Declan asked, taking him by surprise.

Brendan fought down the stabbing pain of sadness at the name. "I think he's alright, but… he… we're not together after what happened."

He fidgeted uncomfortably under his sons gaze.

"Why?" Declan asked.

"You were there, Declan," Brendan answered more harshly than he intended.

Dec wasn't fazed though, "So he couldn't forgive you for believing that he… you know…"

"Not exactly," Brendan said, trying to be dismissive.

"But it was about what Padraig did?"

Brendan let out a gravelly breath, "Not exactly."

"Then?"

"Just leave it Deccy, yeah?"

"Why?"

"Just…"

"But maybe he just needs time to…"

"No Declan!" It was harsher than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. "Look," he paused searching for the words, "it's… Steven and I, we're both Dads, we both… we both know that our happiness is less important than our kids, yeah?"

Declan frowned, "So you broke up because you think Padraig doesn't like him?"

"Doesn't like is a bit of an understatement, Dec," Brendan replied, and, realising he had told the teen much more than he intended, continued "hey, I've got another DVD here somewhere."

"Not tonight, I'm beat," Dec replied, and yawned to prove it, "tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure," Brendan sighed, surprisingly disappointed, "you got everything?"

"Yeah, night Dad."

"Night son."

As he watched his elder son trot up the stairs, he wished he could see into their heads.

**AN: Thanks for reviewing. Please keep it up, spur me on!**


	16. Chapter 16

Work, kids, work, kids. The only variety for Ste came from a night in with Amy (punctuated by the kids, naturally) which, though nice, was hardly living the high life.

Ste did really love the kids, and wouldn't give up their times together for anything, and working at the restaurant was so much more rewarding than Chez Chez ever was, (financially and spiritually). He couldn't really complain about any of his life right now.

Except it was all as boring as watching paint dry.

And any time he didn't fill was at risk of being dominated by thoughts of Brendan; pointless, useless longings would plague him, and sadness that was almost overwhelming. So he filled it. More stuff with the kids, more work, crap telly, exercise, and still his head would return to Brendan.

He hated days off the most. They were rarely weekends, which were the busiest times at the restaurant, so he didn't even get to spend them all with the kids, who would be at school or nursery. But he made sure to take his annual leave during the school holidays so he could at least spend it with the kids, so he could fill his time with stuff that mattered.

And so it was that, months after the last time he saw Brendan, Leah, Lucas and Ste went to the park to play football. Lucas was getting the hang of kicking in the direction he wanted to, and Leah, though completely faithful to her dancing and Princess costumes, dearly loved anything she could win at, something she couldn't fail to do when playing with her tiny brother and kind father.

Ste was helping her celebrate her first goal when Declan appeared at the edge of the park. Ste hadn't expected to see him, so hadn't done anything to avoid it, and was surprised to see the lad trudging across the grass, phone in hand and fiddling away. Declan, however, didn't look the least surprised to see him. Instead, he grinned and waved casually, as though Ste was an old friends, rather than his Dad's ex.

Leah was thrilled to see him.

"Declan! Look Daddy, Daddy, look, it's Declan!"

"Yes, babe, I can see that," Ste said, trying to push down the mix of apprehension and hope that fought its way up. He looked around for Brendan, not sure whether he hoped to see him or not.

"Alright Ste?" the teen called, "hey, Leah, you alright there Lucas?"

Lucas hid behind his father's legs, but Leah practically bounded over in excitement.

"I just scored a goal, Declan! Against Daddy!" she crowed

"Ah, that's pretty cool, Leah, well done!" Declan grinned at her and put his hand out, just high enough for her to reach, "put it there!"

"So, er," Ste interrupted, as his daughter high fived the boy, "what are ye doing here?"

"Oh, I got bored at home. Dad's at work and Paddy forgot half his stuff, so Cheryl's taking him shopping today."

"Oh," Ste replied. So both the Brady boys were here. How long would that last? He shivered at the thought of bumping into Paddy at the shops or something.

"So, I don't think two against one's all that fair, do you Leah?" Dec said cheekily, "do you mind if I play?"

"Yeeeeaaah!" Leah replied, stretching out the word, as though Declan joining in was the best idea anyone ever had.

"Er…" Ste started.

"Cool," Dec interrupted, "So am I on your side Leah?"

"Yeah!" Leah cried before Ste could think of an excuse "You can go in goal!"

Declan grinned at Ste's worried face, as Leah ran for the ball and Lucas chased after uselessly. Ste sighed, but didn't protest, after all, he'd always got on with Declan, and neither Brendan nor Paddy were anywhere in sight.

Declan was good with the kids. He managed to balance helping Leah while letting Lucas past him just enough to make the toddler happy. Ste couldn't help grinning, and at one stage really tried to score against him.

As time for lunch approached, the kids started getting hungry. Ste gave them a time warning so they wouldn't make a fuss when it was time to go, and hoped Declan would take the hint.

He didn't. "Oh, could I come back to yours? There's nothing in, and Dad forgot to leave me cash."

"Yeeeaaah!" said Leah, before Ste could suggest anything wrong with that idea.

"Er… won't your Dad be expecting you or something?" he tried, hoping it was true.

"Naaah, he won't even notice til after work," Dec replied, grinning casually.

"Oh, right…" said Ste.

"Hey, do you want a piggy back, Princess Leah?" Deccy cooed.

He was a sneaky one, that Declan. He knew how to make it impossible to say no, and getting Leah down off anyone's shoulders was a task only those immune to supersonic screams would try. If Ste tried to get her off the shoulders of some she liked there would be days of misery.

"Alright, you can have lunch, but then you're gone right? I don't want your Dad worrying where you are or owt!"

"Ah, thanks Ste!" the teen grinned again.

Cheeky bastard, Ste thought.

It took about fifteen minutes to walk home, most of which Dec spent texting. Bloody teenagers, Ste thought, can't even be polite once they'd invited themselves to tea. He swung a jealous looking Lucas up onto his own shoulders, and clung on carefully to the little boys legs.

There was some post on the doormat, so he sent all the kids in as he picked it up and checked it through, then deposited it in the kitchen, and started digging out food and cutlery. It seemed less than a minute before Leah came bouncing back to him.

"Daddy, Daddy!" she screeched as she ran at him, and tugged his hand.

"What is it sweetheart?" he asked, continuing to prepare food.

"I've left Barbie at the park!"

"What?" Ste demanded, instantly annoyed.

"I left her on the field be the lake."

"What?" Ste repeated, "I told you not to take her. We was only playing football."

Leah looked at Declan who had followed her in, who looked sheepishly at Ste. "I'd go, but I don't know what I'm looking for."

"It's a Barbie doll, how hard can it be?"

"I'll stay and look after the kids, yeah? You'll only be five minutes."

"Er…"

"I'll make sandwiches!" shouted Leah.

"Er…" said Ste again, liking this less and less.

"I think I'd have to help you with that, Princess Leah," said Declan, firmly, "Go on," he encouraged Ste, "we'll be fine."

Ste grumbled as he walked out the door, not completely certain what had just happened. He marched back to the park, still grumbling about sneaky teenagers bullying him out of his own house.

He got to the park and stared across the greenery. He could see a few lads playing football, a lad sat on a picnic blanket next to a couple of bags, a few girls dotted around on swings with Mums watching half heartedly while they chatted, and a tall figure striding ahead of him.

Trying to search quickly, Ste made his way to where their own game had been, where the lad was now sat on the blanket. While he looked for the doll, Ste noticed that the tall man was going the same way, but mostly he was peering around bushes and under benches and stuff, hoping for the tell tale sign of the pink dress he was sure Leah had dressed her Barbie in.

Then he turned to ask the lad on the picnic blanket. "Ere, have you seen…"

He froze at the sight of a sheepish looking Paddy and a bemused Brendan.


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Thanks again for the reviews. Keep them up, they really spur me on**

Brendan was stressed. The bastard suppliers gas screwed up the drinks orders but were refusing to accept responsibility, the DJ for the night had called up and cancelled (with a mild case of the sniffles as far as Brendan could tell) and some boozy hen night had left a nasty mess in the bathroom that could turn even the strongest of stomachs. And he'd agreed to meet the boys for lunch.

Declan had agreed to take Padraig to the park and promised to look after him while he checked on the club, and even that was worrying Brendan a bit. Eileen had mentioned that they'd been fighting more than usual since…. since the incident. Those weren't Eileen's words of course. Hers' were closer to 'that time you properly fucked up.'

After spending a long time shouting at various people, he got off the phone and poured himself a drink, and found himself thinking about how different everything had seemed last time. Like it was all shiny and exciting and beautiful. Life had been like that then. He'd shared his bed with beautiful Steven (or Steven's bed with Steven, he didn't really mind the where), he'd been building the strength of his family, the ones he cared about anyway, getting there with Cheryl. Well maybe not so much the latter, but he still loved them all and felt loved in return.

He sipped at the whiskey, hoping he could swallow his misery with the burning liquid that trickled down his throat. Then he poured more than half away; he couldn't let the boys see him drunk.

He shouted at a couple of the bar staff that he would be back before they knew it and that if he caught them slacking, there would be hell to pay. Scowling at them, he remembered how Steven had been at work – so hard working, except when that pain Rae was around distracting him. Then he could be a cheeky little bastard. Brendan smiled at the memories, thinking of the times that followed, the cheek, the fun, the beautiful Steven Hay.

No, that was bad. That just reminded Brendan how much he missed the boy. As he stormed out of his club, he slammed the door harder than he probably should have.

A text from Padraig told him they were in the park with fish and chips and to meet them there. He changed direction and trudged along, not taking long to reach the gate to the park from where he could see Paddy on a rug.

He should have known Padraig was up to something last night when he was being so friendly and well behaved. Then he realised Declan must have been in on it too, because he didn't think Paddy could have got Steven there by himself. Because Steven was, looking shocked to see either of them.

Padraig was looking both smug and nervous. What was he playing at now?

"Er…" said Steven, uselessly but charmingly.

"Padraig, what do you think you're playing at?" he demanded, trying to make his voice firm but not aggressive as a Dad's voice should be.

"Right… so…" Paddy started, and then cleared his throat. "So, I made a really, really," he breathed out, "really big mistake. I don't really expect you to forgive me for it or anything…"

"Padraig, you don't need to do this…" Steven's voice was so quiet, and Brendan found himself picturing what Padraig had found that day so long ago, and felt sick at it.

"Yes I do, Ste" Paddy insisted. I need to and I want to. Please just… just listen."

Brendan glanced at Steven who was biting his lip and determinedly not looking at anyone.

Paddy took a really deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you Ste, and for what happened because of it. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you, but I am sorry."

Steven continued to stare at the floor, but mumbled "I told ya I forgave ya. He was playing with ya, controlling ya."

"I still did it, Ste! I told Cheryl those things, knowing it was wrong!"

"We all know you feel bad about it Padraig…" Brenda started, but Paddy interrupted him.

"But that's not the end, is it?" he cried, earnestly, though Brendan didn't know what he meant. "Why did you two split up?" Padraig asked.

Brendan caught Steven's minimal glance his way.

"It's complicated," the younger man said.

"No, it isn't! Dad told Declan. It's because of me, because even after everything I've done, you two don't want to hurt me."

Steven's next look at Brendan was reproachful. Brendan had to make up for that.

"Padraig, it's not your place to interfere here."

"Yes it is!" the boy insisted, "If you two are making yourselves even more unhappy because of me!"

"Ye can't force Steven to forgive us, Padraig!" Brendan said, aware he was losing control of his voice.

"I do forgive ye, though," Steven's quiet voice interrupted him.

Padraig stopped arguing as Brendan stared at Steven.

"I mean…" Steven tried awkwardly, "Who wouldn't believe their kid, right? People didn't believe me about Terry or… or you know. How could you not believe him? I'm not saying it didn't hurt me, but… I do understand."

Brendan stared at the man he loved with renewed awe.

"I don't deserve you," he said honestly.

Steven smiled, "probably not, but there's nowt new there, is there?" He looked at his feet again. "But… you proper freaked out our Leah and Lucas, you know. I can't let that happen again."

The mild hope that had grown in Brendan as Steven spoke shrivelled again. Padraig, too, seemed to shrink in front of them.

"If…" Steven began again slowly, "if we do this, you will have to see someone. You know, about the anger and everything."

Brendan drank in the sight of him, barely believing his ears.

"Anything," he heard himself say.

"And we would take it slow, right? No sudden… stuff, or owt?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, just take it slow."

"I love you Steven." He couldn't help himself saying it. It fell out of his mouth like it was escaping.

Steven smiled, "OK, so slow's gonna be tricky."

Brendan laughed at that, but Steven was looking at Paddy again.

"Are you sure, Paddy? You're not gonna do anything else to stop it? 'Cause you only need to say, right?"

Padraig nodded, "I want my Dad to be happy. You make him happy. And I think you're quite a nice bloke, really."

Steven grinned.

"So…" prompted a voice behind them, and they turned to see Declan holding hands with Lucas and Leah, who was grasping a Barbie doll in her hand and giggling mischievously.

"Leah Barnes, did you lie about your Barbie?" Steven exclaimed,

Leah nodded, and moved behind the legs of a smiling Declan.

"Ah, it was all in a good cause, wasn't it Leah?" the owner of the legs said.

The little girl nodded again.

"That was naughty, Leah," Steven scolded, "You shouldn't lie."

"And you, what, you're encouraging her?" Brendan scolded Declan, who looked a little sheepish.

"Well, Ste wouldn't agree to meet us without it, and it wouldn't be fair if we get to sort you out and Ste's kids never got a look in," Declan argued.

"You broke up because of your kids, right? Well, we are all here saying we are not an obstacle," Paddy reasoned, "the only thing standing in your way is you!"

And Steven finally looked at Brendan. Properly, full in the face, and Brendan did the same. He knew he'd never stopped loving Steven, and probably never would. Could he expect Steven to feel the same though? After everything that happened.

"So?" he asked softly.

Steven seemed to think a little longer. "We'll take it slow?" he asked again, looking like he was on the edge of a precipice, almost ready to jump.

Brendan nodded.

"Daddy! I'm hungry!" whined a small voice by Steven's legs. Lucas was pulling on his father's trousers.

"Declan said we were having a picnic," grinned Leah.

"It's here," Paddy said, pointing at a few bags beside him. "They wouldn't let me buy champagne though, even when I explained."

Steven glared at him. "What did I say about slow, Paddy?"

Brendan wasn't sure he'd had an answer, but people started to sit on the picnic rug around him. After a few seconds of staring, he felt a hand take his, as Steven pulled him down to join them.

**AN: Probably just one more chapter. If you want it. x**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: Some of you wil be pleased that actually, this isn't the end of the story.**

Padraig sometimes wondered if his Dad and Ste were capable of 'slow'. They seemed to start living in each other's pockets very quickly. He guessed some people were just meant to be together, and though Padraig still wished sometimes that those people were his Ma and his Dad, he could see how much better this was in reality. Towards the end, the only conversations his parents seemed capable of with each other had been stiff and tense. After that, there'd only really been shouting, accusations and avoidance. But his Dad's time with Ste was completely different. They laughed and joked and flirted. Sometimes Ste sulked, or threw a strop even a toddler would be shocked by, and Dad might get annoyed and roll his eyes, but Paddy knew neither of them would change the smallest thing about the other.

Declan was being less of a git too. He'd started talking to Paddy (without biting his head off much) as soon as he'd understood the plan was not evil, and since it had worked had been almost nice to him. Well, as nice as an older brother could be without breaking the law of siblings. They still wound each other up and had fights. They weren't girls.

Of course there was still some tension. And Paddy had been having nightmares.

There were a few that would comeback in various ways. One was where he was hurt and needed help, and he went to everybody, Ma, Dad, Cheryl, Declan, Grandma, one at a time, and each one turned their backs on him in disgust. One had an old shark that tried to eat him and spoke in his Grandfather's voice. But the worst ones weren't really nightmares. They were flashbacks. Ste on that bed, naked and hurt, grasping his stomach while Paddy's own Grandfather undid his fly.

Sometimes his Granddad didn't stop when Padraig came in. Instead he might trap him in the room, the three of them together, to the sound of Ste's misery.

And sometimes he was Ste, held down, scared, still. Those were the times he woke up crying.

That wasn't the worst though. The worse were where he was the one on top, holding Ste down, making him cry, hurting him, seeing the man beneath him, drinking in his tears and his body.

He would wake up shaking and cold, desperate to shower.

Declan noticed the night time trips to the bathroom, asked if he needed help, like he was some sissy girl, scared of monsters under the bed. Padraig told him where to shove it, interfering git, thinking he knew best just because he was two years older. Git.

Time passed. Their Dad was making a better effort to see them, coming over more often, sometimes with Ste, sometimes by himself. Paddy preferred it when it was just Dad though. He did want them to be happy, but having Ste with them kind of freaked him out. It made the nightmares worse, and Paddy couldn't stop thinking about them whenever there was a quiet moment when Ste was there.

He suspected Ste felt similarly though. At first he thought Ste was just colder since the incident; less cheerful, more fearful of everyone. Then he realised, Ste's body language changed whenever he realised Paddy was there. He would catch worried looks from Ste in just his direction. It wasn't dislike – it was a wariness and embarrassment, and Padraig couldn't blame him, on either count.

Maybe it would get less in time.

It would take ages though. Almost a year after the incident, Dad arranged to come over for a weekend, with Ste and Ste's kids. Paddy was very worried. It was going to be a big deal – Ste and Ma, at the same time, in the same place. Declan didn't seem worried, though.

They walked to school together one morning, Paddy sulkily kicking a stone along, as his brother slouched happily along beside him

"What's got your knickers in a twist?" the older brother asked.

Padraig just glared at him. He needed to glare more. He'd been getting out of practice.

Dec didn't wait for an answer anyway, "Oh, get over it! It'll be fine."

Paddy grunted.

"Hey, get lost, yeah? I don't wanna be seen with my little brother."

Paddy glared again, "Yeah? As if I wanna be seen with a freak like you!"

"Yeah," Dec said, annoyingly unbothered, "don't want to make all your mates jealous of how cool your brother is." And the older boy jogged off to catch up with a group of his mates, before Paddy could come up with a witty reply.

Paddy grumbled a bit more to the stone he was kicking, walking the familiar route. The hands that grabbed him by the collar made him scream. Until one of them landed on his mouth. He stared in the direction Dec had gone, but he'd turned a corner, and Paddy was already being dragged into an alley between two houses.

He kicked and scrambled, and tried to bite at the hand on his mouth, but it made no difference. He was shoved unceremoniously against a wall, to see his attackers face right up in his own.

"Calm down, Padraig," his grandfather growled at him, "it's only me."

That wasn't exactly a calming thought, but Paddy forced himself to calm, trying not to cry.

"What's the matter with you, boy? Your Daddy turning you into a sissy queer too?" Granddad growled impatiently, looking around him for unwanted observers.

"You can talk!" Paddy found himself shouting around the hand on his mouth.

And his Grandfather punched him in the stomach. He almost brought his breakfast back up at the feeling.

"I ain't queer, boy!" the old man hissed in his ear, while Padraig coughed up a lung. "You show respect to your elders, Padraig!"

"Just cos you're old?" Padraig cried, "You can stuff it up…"

Granddad hit him again, and Padraig coughed up before he could finish. He'd got into fights at school before, Jimmy Penny for one liked to throw the odd punch, but he'd never been properly hit by a grown up, and it bloody hurt.

"I should beat the crap out of you," his Grandfather growled, "you little piece of shit. Do you know what you did to me when you showed Cheryl that room?"

"Nothing like what you deserved!" Paddy bit out through the tears.

"I suggest you change your tone, boy!" Granddad warned, "I will not be spoken to like that!"

Paddy sorely wanted to shout back at him, but the pain in his belly still made him feel sick, so he stayed quiet and glared for a bit.

His Grandfather grunted. "That's better," he said, in a more ordinary voice. He surveyed Padraig thoughtfully for a moment, then said, "what's going on with your father and the queer?"

Paddy almost laughed that he was still using that word, but decided answering truthfully would probably hurt him most.

"They're back together. Your little scheme didn't work, they're happier than ever!"

Granddad let out an angry breath.

"Yeah," Paddy continued, pleased by the reaction he was getting, "and you know what? It was me that got them back together. Me and Declan! And there's nothing you can do about it!"

Granddad shoved him back against the wall, and Padraig braced himself for another punch, but it didn't come.

"Huh," his Granddad said thoughtfully, regarding him carefully again, "and you don't think it's wrong? And disgusting?"

Paddy hesitated. There was something wrong with the family as it was. That tension, Ste's wariness, his own nightmares.

The hesitation was enough. His Granddad pounced on it.

"Good, it's not too late for you."

"What?" he Padraig asked, lost now.

His Granddad took him by his arm, and pulled him further down the alley, and out into the next street. The last few stragglers going towards the schools could be seen leaving the street at the far end, and Padraig was tugging on his Grandfather in earnest.

"I'll scream!" he said

"No you won't," his Grandfather replied, "it's too late for Brendan, and probably for Declan too, though we can always come back for him."

"Come back…?"

"It's my duty, as your Granddad, to keep away bad influences, to step in when your own parents aren't up to scratch. I messed up with Brendan, but I did OK with Cheryl."

"What are you…?"

Granddad opened the door of a car. "Get in," he ordered.

Paddy hesitated.

"Get in," Granddad repeated.

"No!" said Paddy with more strength than he felt.

Granddad got his face in close. "Get in or I'll put you in the boot."

Paddy thought his breathing stopped. Then he fought like a wildcat to get free of his Granddad. He punched at anything he could reach, and kicked and slapped, but his Granddad seemed impervious to it all. He dragged the boy by one arm to the back of the car, opened the boot, and then scooped him up, shoving him in, before slamming the lid down, leaving Padraig alone in the darkness.

**AN: OK, so I didn't see that one coming. Decided to post it anyway. Too far? No such thing is there? **

**Please review! It makes me want to keep writing. Or find equilibrium. Or maybe I should just seek professional help. Or something.**


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Gosh, sorry it's been ages. Trying to balance real life which is already too full, with trying not to short change you by updating unthoughtout stuff (like the last chapter)**

**I hope you enjoy this. Thanks for the lovely reviews, please do keep them coming. Will try to update more often, but do need to decide where it goes first. **

"We can't pick 'em up from school!"

"Nah, they'll love it!"

"Brendan! They'd hate it. They'd never talk to us again!"

The car was rolling out of the port slowly, Brendan driving with Ste beside him. The crossing had been easy and they'd had a greasy lunch on board.

At the last minute, Ste had chickened out of bringing Leah and Lucas. He had been dwelling on Eileen's possible reactions to them since the trip had been planned. The last time he'd seen her, they'd barely made eye contact, and Ste knew it would only take the smallest thing to go wrong or be taken the wrong way to start a blazing row. Maybe even the big blazing row that had been brewing since she first walked in on him and Brendan that summer that seemed so long ago now.

And on top of that there was the Paddy problem. Ste had hoped it would get easier in time, as they got used to each other and the memories became less fresh. It didn't work that way. As Paddy got older, had his birthday, his voice starting to break, looking less like a child and more like a teenager, Ste just realised how Paddy would be understanding things better and better. Maybe he always had known exactly what he'd walked in on, maybe Ste had just blocked it from his mind, but it was so painful spending time with him, worrying about what he thought, whether he felt disgust or pity. Ste wasn't sure which would be worse.

So he'd decided Leah and Lucas would be happier with Mike, and found an excuse for Brendan. They had somehow managed to hide most of the tension from Brendan. He and Paddy seemed to have an unspoken understanding on that – Brendan didn't need to know how it was. And he didn't feel guilty about it at all. He smiled at Brendan, who was laughing away at the thought of causing his sons extreme embarrassment. He'd been so happy recently. He was seeing someone about his anger, he was out to everyone they knew, he treated Ste like a prince, and he had managed to hide all evidence of drugs from him too (though Ste wasn't stupid enough to think that wasn't a major income for Brendan). There'd been some touchy moments of jealousy too. They went to a club a few days ago, and Brendan had been thrown out for punching a guy who got too close to Ste. They'd had a massive row about it in the street and then Ste had stormed off alone, only for Brendan to turn up the next day, apology and romance in tow.

Ste was finding it hard to stay angry with him these days.

And he really enjoyed the make-up sex.

And the angry sex. And the playful, jokey sex. And day ending in a y sex. Sex with Brendan was like nothing on Earth. Brendan could play Ste like a virtuoso played the violin. No one else had ever managed anything like it. He grinned at him, thinking about the night before last (he'd spent last night with the kids, naturally) particularly a wonderful new move Brendan had tried on his ear, before remembering they were supposed to be arguing.

"They'll hate it if we just show up at their school, with all their mates around."

"Naah," said Brendan, pulling the vowel out with a gleeful look on his face.

"But my mate's Dad picked him up from school once, and I took the mick out of him for ages."

Brendan glanced at him, "Why did you do that?"

"'Cause I was jealous; my Mum never picked me up from anywhere after I learned to walk."

"Well then…"

"That's not the point, Bren…"

"Well, what is then?"

"Paddy and Declan won't like it. We should just meet them at Eileen's like we said."

Brendan pulled the car onto the main road, still grinning "Ah, go on, it'll be a laugh!"

Ste laughed aloud, "You actually find it hilarious, don't ya? Humiliating your own kids!"

"A bit," Brendan grinned back.

The journey continued in silence, and the houses got closer together, as they trundled the familiar route to Eileen's.

"It's not time yet, anyway," Ste said, unnecessarily.

Brendan grinned, "I know," they pulled off the road.

"Where are we going?" Ste asked.

Brendan grinned, but didn't answer. They drove into a car park.

"Why are we here?" Ste asked, screwing up his face as the buildings around him.

"Just… just wait here," Brendan replied as he parked the car.

"What?" Ste asked, looking around him. It was a town centre car park. Brendan could be going anywhere.

"Stay here," Brendan repeated, and grinned at him annoyingly, getting out of the car, and strolling away.

"But…" Ste protested.

He heard an electronic ringing noise. His phone was in his pocket, but it wasn't coming from there. He felt around the gap between the seats, before he found Brendan's.

"Brendan, your phone…" he shouted.

Brendan didn't pause in his steps. "Get it will ye? It's probably Cheryl." he called over his shoulder.

"But…"

But Brendan had gone. Ste stared after him bemused, then checked around him. He had a vague idea where he was, they'd been shopping here before. There were some nice restaurants, some clothes stores, a couple of clubs around, but he still had no clue. Still bemused, he answered Brendan's phone.

It was only a voicemail anyway. The phone must have fallen out of Brendan's pocket before they got out on the boat. Ste listened intently.

* * *

><p>Paddy had never been so uncomfortable in his life. He couldn't straighten his legs, and he'd had to bend himself around heavy looking bags he was at the wrong angle to move. His belly ached from the punches his Grandfather had delivered there. He couldn't lie on his back because it pulled on the muscles there, nor on his front because that would be putting his weight on his newly forming bruises, so he was balanced in the shallow boot on his side, trying to cushion his head on bumps and ignore the nasty smells.<p>

It had taken him a little while to realise that his Grandfather had forgotten about his mobile. His Dad was the first and only person he could think of calling. No one else would understand what was going on and be able to do anything about it. He trusted his Dad. Surely he would help.

He couldn't hold back the sobs when he got through to voicemail. He couldn't believe his Dad would miss such an important call. He left a message, "Dad, it's me. Where are ye? Look I'm in… Granddad… I think he forgot I have a phone, but he's locked me in his boot and … please, Dad, help me…"

Then he hung up. That was enough wasn't it? Dad would ring back. He couldn't have carried on talking if he'd tried. So he lay in the dark, waiting as long as he dared, watching the bars of battery in panic, trying to stop crying.

It seemed to take an age for the phone to ring – a jingling sound that seemed so loud, even over the engine. He could have kicked himself as the car stopped a second later, the engine suddenly silenced, before he could answer.

"Dad?" he whispered terror in lacing his voice.

* * *

><p>"No it's Ste, are you OK?" Ste replied, shaking already.<p>

The sobbing continued, "Where's my Dad?"

"I don't know, he's just… Paddy, what happened?"

The sobbing got louder. Between the sounds, Paddy managed "Granddad. I… he stopped me," Paddy could barely talk between the sobs, "… and… he… locked me… in the boot."

"Where are ya?"

"I … don't … know. In the boot," the sobs were distorting his voice, and Ste was searching desperately for a sign of Brendan returning.

A sad, sneaky thought occurred to Ste; "Paddy, you're not lying are you?"

"Nooooo!" Sobbed Paddy with such misery Ste felt ashamed to have asked.

"Ok, OK, it'll be OK, Paddy, we'll find you," Ste said, trying to calm himself as much as anything.

"Where's my Dad? I know… I know you can't … you can't fight Granddad, so…"

"Paddy, we'll …" he imagined Brendan's reaction to this. He would probably commit murder. "We'll find you…" he finished lamely.

Paddy didn't respond. Was the sobbing quieter? He wasn't sure. "Paddy?" he tried. No reply, so he tried again, "Paddy?"

"Steven," came the calm, low answer in the most hateful voice in the world.

Ste didn't reply, but felt the hatred bubbling up inside him.

He heard some laughter, then the slamming sound. The boot must have been slammed shut.

"Steven," the dreaded voice repeated.


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: The never ending saga continues. Thanks for all the lovely reviews.**

**Enjoy**

"Yeah?" Ste said, having no clue what to say.

"It seems my Grandson's been even naughtier than I thought," Brady sneered.

"Don't hurt him."

"He's my Grandson," Brady growled angrily in reply, "I want what's best for him."

"Right," said Ste, too scared for Paddy to argue with that, and hoping it was true. "So, you'll get him back to his Mum then?"

"Of course not. If he's with his Ma, he'll see that poof of a father and you together, confusing him, messing him up," Brady sneered. "We can't have that."

"But, what are you gonna do to him?"

Brady laughed contemptuously, "I'm not some sort of pantomime villain, Steven, I don't go around hurting children for no reason. He'll stay with me now, and I'll sort him out. Teach him right and wrong."

Ste was gobsmacked. "Are you completely mental?"

"No, Steven," Brady growled, "I'm the only one with any sense. What you do, it's disgusting, and you're twisting those poor kids' minds."

Ste, panicking, tried desperately to think of any argument to get him to bring Paddy back, while desperately searching for Brendan. "I'll stay away from them, I promise, but he should be with his Mum."

"You've told me that before, Steven, yet here you are on Brendan's phone. Where is my son, by the way?"

"He's right here," Ste lied. Too quickly.

"I don't think so," Brady replied, calmly. "I don't think he'd be leaving something this important to you if he knew what was going on."

"He'll be back any moment," Ste said, following the path Brendan had taken, while trying not to get too far from the car.

"Where are you?" Brady demanded.

"Er…"

"Steven," hissed Brady, "I said I won't hurt Padraig, but I will punish him if he steps out of line, and if he's the only leverage I have against you, I will use it."

"I don't really know…"

"What town?"

Ste hesitated, "We're in Belfast. You won't get away with it, we will find you!" he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

Brady sighed, "Now, Steven, I want you to imagine all the things I could do to Padraig that will make him cry."

Steven remembered what Brady had done to him that made him cry.

"You said you wouldn't hurt him."

"You will tell me where you are."

Ste hesitated a bit longer, "It's a car park. Brendan'll be back any minute."

"In town?"

"Yeah," Ste replied.

"What can you see?"

Ste told him, it couldn't make it worse now anyway, Brendan would be back any moment. Wouldn't he? Ste searched the streets he could see.

"Do not hang up, Steven. Keep talking to me, and walk out the main entrance and turn right. Walk down that road and keep walking. When you get to the end, turn right again."

"Why?" Ste asked, though fearing the answer.

"If you want to see Padraig again, that is what you will do." Brady stated simply.

Ste looked in the direction Brady instructed.

"Brendan will be here any moment," he said again.

"And if you are still there when he does, Padraig will be the one who pays for it."

Ste glanced around again. Still nothing. Brady couldn't see him, though. He could do something. He fished his own phone out of his pocket, and quickly left a text.

"Ur Dad has Paddy am following"

He would leave the phone on the dashboard, with that text open. Hopefully it would be the first thing Brendan saw.

"I'm walking," he said, still writing the text.

"I don't hear your footsteps, Steven," Brady growled.

He threw the phone into the car, and left, without closing the door. It would worry Brendan more that it was open, and maybe he would catch up in time. Then he held the phone down in the direction of his feet, now walking as they should.

"Better?" he said, into the phone.

"We'll see," Brady replied, and Ste heard a car start. He realised what Brady was planning.

He walked the route as instructed, past houses he hadn't seen before. He knew Brady was driving, presumably towards him, but was on the phone all the way. An irrational part of him wanted to shout at the man for being on the phone while driving with Paddy in the car, but he didn't. He just walked and walked and walked.

He turned the corner as instructed, wondering if Brendan would have found him missing yet, and what he would do when he did.

It took a few minutes to walk all that way, but he knew he could still find his way back when the car pulled up beside him.

"Get in," ordered Brady's voice on the phone.

He looked at the car.

"Let Paddy go and I'll get in," he tried.

"That's not how this is going to work. If you don't want Paddy to receive extra bruises, you will get in the car."

Ste hesitated a moment longer, judging how long it would take him to get Paddy out of the boot. Longer than it would take Brady to drive off, probably. It wouldn't work.

"Your a sick man," he mutterred, as he sat in the front seat beside Brady.

Brendan was grinning from ear to ear. He'd been sneaky, and he knew it, but he was expecting to be properly rewarded for this bit of sneakiness.

He'd cancelled the hotel the night before, while Steven had been with his kids, only, of course, after booking the most exclusive hotel in Belfast. He'd then ordered Steven's favourite foods for lunch, to be served in the very exclusive restaurant while a classical guitarist played acoustic arrangements of Britney Spears. Ok, the latter might be pushing it a bit, but a romantic lunch, followed by an evening with the kids; that was just what they needed.

Well, the other way round might have been better, of course. Getting Steven in the mood, then waiting hours before they could act on it could turn out to be painful for them both, but it was a risk worth taking to give Steven a perfect day. As he waited for the confirmation from the receptionist, which came accompanied by sneaky wink after a few checks, he imagined Steven's face when he saw it all.

And he'd booked some awesome Laser game later too. Team Brady would slaughter whoever had the misfortune to have booked against them.

He tipped the receptionist generously, and, still grinning, turned to march out of the hotel. He checked his watch. It had taken slightly longer than he'd intended, as he had insisted on checking the room himself, and they didn't have people check in until twelve. He picked up his steps, and hurried back to the car.

To see no Steven. He glanced around. Maybe he'd just gone to the toilet. Or maybe he was sulking. Steven did like a good sulk, (and Brendan liked sucking on that bottom lip whenever he did). He got in the car to wait.

Steven had left his phone on the dashboard and the door open. That wasn't like him. He couldn't have been caught that short could he? Brendan patted his pockets for his own phone, but couldn't find it. It must have dropped out, so he searched the gap between the seats, and reached underneath. No sign. He picked up Steven's to call his own.

Steven was in the middle of a text.

Brendan read it. And then his heart fell out.


	21. Chapter 21

Brady's car smelt brand new. Ste guessed it had been rented, but had no clue how a man who was supposed to be a wanted criminal had been able to do that and cross seas and borders as Brady must have done. Maybe he just wasn't as wanted as Ste would have liked to believe. After all, he wasn't wanted for murder. It wasn't even for rape.

Brady drove like a model citizen too. Ste guessed that was one reason he'd never been caught. He'd never had to interact with a policeman. Driving with a phone to his ear had been a big risk for him, but luck had been on Brady's side, and now they just looked like two men driving.

"Why are you doing this?" Ste asked, voice no louder than a whisper.

Brady grunted at the question, but didn't answer.

"He's your Grandson! Why are you hurting him like this?"

"I'm not hurting him. What you do, that's hurting him. Confusing him. Making him think it's not disgusting to be queer."

"But it's not disgusting!" Ste protested, "Me and Brendan are in love and happy. There's nothing disgusting about it!"

"It is!" Brady almost shouted, "it's against God and it's disgusting. You disgust me. What you make me want to do disgusts me. It disgusts everybody. But at least I have the decency to be disgusted and to hide it. You, you flaunt it, like it's something to be proud of. I can't let my Grandkids grow up think that. I can't and I won't!"

"But you didn't hide it, did ye? You couldn't and you shouldn't have to!"

"You're going for the beating of your life, boy!"

"And you never hid it from Brendan, did ye? He told me, you used to sleep with the same men!"

Brady laughed derisively "I never slept with them. I fucked them, the threw them out like the disgusting trash that they were."

"But you didn't hide it from him, and this ain't gonna hide it from Paddy."

Brady looked like he was thinking, really thinking about what Ste had said. Ste held his breath. Was there a chance he'd got through to him?

"I can still teach him it's wrong. If that's all that's left I can make sure he doesn't turn out like Brendan."

Ste's disappointment mixed with anger, and his voice showed it. "What you think it's better he turns out like? A sad, pathetic old man, too scared to admit to what he is, and only able to get any by using force?"

Brady's face was a mask of fury, but his hands were glued to the wheel. Ste instantly worried that he'd gone too far. He could have caused an accident with Paddy in the boot, never mind himself in the car.

Brady changed gear. They were going quite fast now on a duel carriage way out of the city. Ste looked at the road ahead.

Brady elbowed him in the face.

His nose got the brunt of the unexpected move, and his hands flew to it to check for bloody. He could feel blood seeping through his aching nostrils.

"Next time I give you a warning, you shut up!" hissed Brady.

Ste didn't answer. He knew no answer was expected. Brady took some opportunities to glare at him, but otherwise they travelled in silence.

"Phone," Brady said suddenly, holding a hand to Ste. Ste handed over Brendan's phone. "And yours?"

"I ain't got it."

Brady glared at him.

"I think I left it in the car," Ste added unnecessarily.

They pulled off the main road, Ste still trying to remember the names of places he saw, but they passed fewer signs, fewer other cars, until they reached a field where Brady parked. Ste had a sudden vision of being made to dig his own shallow grave, before remembering Brady had no weapon. The only leverage Brady had was Paddy, there was no way he could kill Ste. Yet. And he would probably not kill him before he'd succeeded in doing what he always tried to do.

That wasn't exactly a comforting thought.

Brady was out of the car before the sound of the engine had died. Ste had a moment of hope when he saw the empty driver's seat, but without the keys he wouldn't get far. He heard the boot opening and almost fell over himself trying to get to Paddy.

Brady had pulled the sore, blinking lad out of the boot and onto the ground before Ste could get there. The old man was keeping a tight hold of the child's arm and pointing at the boot.

"Ste?" Paddy gasped, and looked horrified and hopeful all at once, "where's Dad?"

"Get in there," Brady ordered before Ste could give an answer.

"Let Paddy go and I will," Ste replied quickly.

"No, Ste!" Paddy protested, but it was Brady's next move that shocked Ste to the core. The old man grabbed his grandson's hand and took Padraig's little finger. Then he bent it back as far as it would go. Paddy cried out in pain, though Brady had stopped just short of that nasty cracking sound that would mean a break.

"You have no power here, Steven. I will break a finger for every time you say no. If Paddy here runs out of fingers, I'll just take him and we'll be on our way, just the two of us, like we were before you stuck your oar in, and I promise you, you'll never find either of us."

It was no choice, really, after that. He couldn't put Paddy through that pain or lose him now. But Terry had tried that move with him and Amy before, and again with just him, but Ste knew better than to be scared of him. He didn't need to be. Terry was just a weak, pathetic bully, just like Brady. The likes of them would never win.

With difficulty, Ste clambered into the open boot. Brady felt each of his pickets briefly, clearly searching for Ste's mobile, before slamming the lid closed. It was pitch black in there, and he barely fit, even curled up.

He heard a childlike cry outside the car, and a shouted "That was for calling your Dad. Get in." Ste hit the boot with his fist and shouted "Don't you dare lay a finger on him, you bastard!"

He didn't get a reply, just the sound of a door slamming, followed shortly by another, and then the hum of the car's engine.

**AN: Back on a roll. Shouldn't get back to those excesses of a week waits again, hopefully, but keep the reviews coming or I lose the will to live. Though I do enjoy writing angst. **

**I'm booking my appointment with the therapist as I write. I might even go.**


	22. Chapter 22

**AN: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, (or favourited.) Please keep them reviewing, I love to read what you think.**

**Enjoy!**

Granddad had succeeded where Paddy's parents and teachers had all failed, and got him to behave. It had taken a number of threats and two new bruises, but Paddy still felt like a failure as he sat quietly in the car, not fighting, not trying to run, not trying to get Ste out, hating that his Grandfather had used him yet again in his campaign of hatred against the man Dad loved.

"Where are we going?" Paddy asked, nervously, after quite a long silence.

Granddad grumbled. "In my day, kids were seen and not heard. They used to beat ht manners into us."

"I haven't done anything!" Paddy protested, then realised he spoke to his teachers like that. Granddad could do much worse than detention though.

"Sit still and shut up or I will start by breaking a finger."

So Paddy did. He was quieter than he'd ever been, even quieter than when the head had told of his class for starting a fight. Quieter even than church. Granddad wasn't though. He fidgeted for a while as he drove, then said "I'm doing this for your own good, ye know."

Paddy didn't answer. He didn't fancy broken fingers.

"I'm helping ye," Granddad continued, "If I let your Dad mess you up any more, you… you'd end up the victim of some gang or something."

Still Paddy stayed silent.

"And it's in the bible," Granddad continued, "God hates that sort of thing. I couldn't let you stay with those queers.

Was he really trying to explain? Was he being honest? It didn't really feel like he was talking to Paddy at all.

"So… why did you bring Ste?" Paddy asked.

Granddad huffed watching the road as Paddy watched him nervously but curiously. "He would have got in the way. When you rang him."

Did that make sense, "So, it was so he couldn't tell Dad what you'd done?" said Paddy.

"Yeah," replied Granddad, with slightly more confidence.

"But he didn't know where we were. What could he have told Dad that he wouldn't know soon anyway?"

Granddad grunted, and Paddy wondered whether Granddad actually had a plan at all.

"A couple of hours, son, they make all the difference in the world," Granddad grumbled.

"But Dad'll notice you've taken Ste."

Granddad growled softly and Paddy couldn't help thinking it was more to do with giving himself time to answer rather than comfort. "Are you going to try to rape him again?" he asked, almost crying a the thought.

"He's not important enough for you to think about him like that," Granddad said.

Paddy frowned, not understanding.

"He's a teaching tool, that's all," Granddad continued, "I'm gonna use him to show you what happens to queers."

"But," Paddy started, still frowning, still confused, "but you just decided that. Just now."

Granddad shifted his hands on the steering wheel.

"Do you…" Paddy tried, then swallowed, amazed he was asking this, "do you love…"

"Men don't love men Padraig!" his Granddad hissed, furiously, "It's disgusting and wrong."

"But you could have just left him. You didn't have to bring him," Paddy knew he was right now, whatever Granddad said now. You didn't react like that if you didn't care.

Granddad was breathing loudly but steadily, trying to get himself back under control. "Maybe I need to put the both of ye in the boot, see how well ye fit," he growled, "And how comfortable will it be with broken fingers, do you think? Eh?"

Paddy carefully put his hands under his legs, and stared carefully and determinedly out of the window. But Granddad hadn't done anything to show him he was wrong. Maybe, if he was right, he might just be able to get Ste out alive.

But what about what Granddad had said about showing him how people treat queers? That did not sound good.

It started to rain as Padraig watched countryside pass by.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx….xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx…xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brendan had driven everywhere Steven could have reached on foot, swearing loudly most of the way. As he lost hope, he lost his temper, and somehow he managed to put the passenger seat headrest through one of the windows without having a single memory of actually throwing it.

He got out of the car, and sat on the curb beside it, breathing deeply. He let his head fall into his hands, knowing he couldn't let himself fall into the despair that was surrounding him, or he might never be able to climb out again.

He wished he'd killed the old bastard when he had the chance. Prison would have been worth if he could have stopped this.

He decided to check the possibility Steven had been mistaken. It was a hope, and though he was worried sick about Steven, the idea of Paddy sat happily somewhere (or even miserably in a French test) would provide some small comfort. He rang Eileen, as casually as he could manage, and asked if both boys were at school as normal. She'd replied with an enormous sigh, "Yes, of course, Brendan. Do you think I wouldn't tell ye if they were off sick with you coming over?"

"Course," he replied, with a forced laugh that sounded manic to his own ears.

"Are you alright Brendan?" she asked.

"Yeah, course… Bye."

He hung up with no further explanation. And rang the school. Then he hung up on the receptionist and drove there.

He marched to the receptionist.

"I need to see Padraig and Declan Brady, right now. I'm their father and it's a family emergency."

The lady looked alarmed, and typed something into the computer. "Er, Declan is in S14, in biology, and Padraig…"

She stopped.

"Something wrong?" Brendan asked, his voice terrifying.

"Er… It seems Padraig's down as an unauthorised absence today. Is it possible he's with his Mam?"

But Brendan was already out of the door. He could hear the receptionist shouting "Mr Brady? Mr Brady? Do you not want me to find Declan?"

When he got off school properly, he kicked the nearby bins over, scattering rubbish about the roads, making passing motorists sound their horns angrily at him. He screamed at them as they drove past, then stormed his way back to his own car, destroying anything in his way. He sat back down in the driver's seat and stared at Steven's mobile. His father had got rid of the phone Brendan knew the number of, he had found that out the first time he'd looked for him, before his life became something he wouldn't risk for all the money in the world. He hadn't tried much since Steven took him back, for that very reason. He couldn't risk jail, not with everyone he loved to think about.

But it had been a bad call. He should have done whatever it took to rid the world of the old bastard.

He called Paddy's number and put the phone to his ear. It rang out and rang out. When it got to voicemail, he hung up and rang his own number, as presumably Steven had that, but that rang out too.

Time to try less savoury means, then. He had plenty of contacts still in Belfast. Someone had to know something, what identity his Granddad might be using, which could help him find any car or house the old man had rented.

He would find them all, and the old man would die.

And then he'd get Steven a better phone. This one was a piece of crap.


	23. Chapter 23

Padraig had stared out of the window for the whole of the journey, trying desperately to remember places. He'd been particularly careful to note place names since they got off the main road/

He'd hoped to be able to see Ste when they got out. Maybe there could be a moment when Granddad held neither of them, and they could make a run for it together. Or maybe, together, they could over power him, maybe force him into the boot, see how he like it.

But it hadn't worked like that. Granddad had hold of his arm the second the car came to a halt, and pulled him out on the driver's side, making Paddy climb over the gear stick. Then he'd pulled him into a shitty little cottage.

It was in the middle of bloody nowhere. They' passed through a tiny village about ten minutes before, but from here, all you could see were fields. Paddy went over the route from the village again and again in his head, desperate to remember it.

Granddad dragged him upstairs and into a tiny bedroom. He took a key from the inside lock, and held it in his hand as he ordered Paddy to sit on the bed.

"I don't want to hear a peep from you tonight," Granddad growled. "We start your lessons in the morning. Until then, you stay in here, you shut up, and you get some sleep, do you understand me?"

Sleep? It was only like 5 in the afternoon, but Paddy nodded anyway.

"Good," said Granddad, then strode out of the bedroom, slamming and locking the door, leaving Paddy alone with time to look around.

* * *

><p>Ste realised he must have dozed off in the boot when he noticed that he hadn't heard the engine stop. It was silent now, though. In fact, Ste had to strain to hear anything except the pitter patter of the rain tapping on the metal above him. He felt about himself in the darkness, searching for anything that might help him escape. The bags around him seemed to be filled with nothing but clothes and the odd soap or shampoo. Nothing dangers, nothing that could help him escape. The sharpest thing he could find was a small pack of disposable razors. He took one and slid it into his jeans pocket. After a moment's thought, he took another, and put it inside his underwear. It felt ridiculous there. It couldn't do much more than scratch someone's skin, but it was better than nothing.<p>

It felt like an age, as he lay there curled up and cramped in the darkness. He needed to straighten his legs and move about. Thoughts kept occurring to him, like was Brady going to leave him in the boot forever? Was it to kill him slowly or to keep him from escaping? His stomach reminded him it had been a while since he'd eaten or had anything to drink. Just a glass of water would have felt like paradise at that moment, with his mouth tasting like dry car.

When the boot was finally opened, the light burnt his eyes. He covered his face without thinking, even as his arm was being tugged up and out. He landed clumsily on the ground in a heap with a groan, as his cramping legs refused to work quickly or well enough.

"Shut up, boy and get inside now," hissed Brady in a hushed voice, tugging on his arm again. Blinking furiously Ste looked around for a clue as to where they were.

Though the light had seemed so bright after all that time in the boot, Ste realised it was late in the afternoon. With the angry rain clouds it was not even very light. They were stood, (well, Ste was sprawled) in the middle of an empty looking field amongst empty looking fields. The grass was a beautiful, pure green, but right in front of them was an old, decrepit looking cottage. It wasn't that it was ruined. It just looked like its previous owner had not looked after it. And Ste doubted it had electricity or heating.

"Where's Paddy?" Ste asked.

"Inside, now get moving," Brady growled.

He did as he was told, forcing his legs to do as they were told. Brady pushed him in, and slammed the door behind them. They were straight in the main room of the house. Against one wall was a flight of stairs, on another an old fashioned fireplace, and at the back, a door that Ste assumed led to some sort of kitchen. There was a window to the side of the door, and a few chairs and a table filled up the centre of the room, and there was little other space. Brady shoved him towards one of those chairs, and then told him to sit.

Ste stood indignantly. "Where's Paddy? You said he was in 'ere."

Brady didn't need to answer. The banging noise and a loud teenage voice swearing that came from upstairs did, for him.

"I told you to sit," the old man said instead, and Ste decided it was probably better than a fight, and sat.

There was another bang from upstairs, presumably from Paddy's escape attempts. Ste hoped he'd succeed, but didn't like his odds.

"We're miles from the nearest village, and I ain't telling you the way," Brady sneered, "you could walk thirty miles and find nothing out here, and I don't fancy your chances with no food or water."

Thirty miles? Had they crossed the border? Ste wasn't great at geography, but he didn't think there was that much countryside in Northern Ireland.

Brady wasn't done, though, "If I see you take a step out of that door, that lad up there pays for it. Do I make myself clear?"

"He's your Grandson, not mine," Ste replied disgusted.

"Bit late to start pretending you don't care now, isn't it?" Brady retorted, "You got into a car with me for him." He strolled in a curve around the room until he was stood behind Ste, who was fighting back his own need to flee, sitting rigidly. "Don't you want to know why I brought you here?" he asked, resting his hands on Ste's shoulders, and letting them explore.

A series of bangs stopped Ste's retort in his throat. He looked up, worriedly, as if hoping to check Paddy hadn't hurt himself by seeing him through the floor, which failed of course.

Brady's hands retreated.

"If you move an inch from that chair while I'm upstairs, I'll break a leg, do you hear?"

Ste nodded glumly, knowing there was no way he could abandon Paddy.

Brady stamped to the stairs, and disappeared up them, but Ste didn't watch him go. He'd noticed something. Brady's jacket lay on the chair just feet from Ste's. The jacket he'd seen the phones disappear into just hours earlier. He glanced at the stairs, but could hear shouting from the top. He dived for the pockets, found one of the phones and tore back to his seat, hoping the jacket looked untouched.

The shouting upstairs had stopped, and footsteps were returning. No time to call yet. He shoved the phone into his sock and tugged his jeans back down to hide the bump as best he could.

Brady reappeared, face like thunder. Ste stared at him.

"Is he alright?" he asked, when Brady offered no information.

"Course," mumbled Brady, staring back at him, "he just need a little reminder of the house rules."

Ste sneered, "What, do you think you're supernanny now? You've kidnapped him; of course he wants to get out."

"He's my grandson."

"Yeah, you keep saying that, don't ye? But I've never laid a finger in anger on either of my kids and I never would."

Brady scoffed, "And when they're leeching off the state or sat in a prison cell, we'll know who to blame, won't we?"

Ste was gobsmacked. How dare this bastard say that about Leah and Lucas when he'd so nearly turned Brendan into an emotionally crippled, violent, psychopath? "Did you ever hit Cheryl?" he asked, suddenly needing to know.

Brady looked almost as shocked as Ste had been, "Of course not, I'd never hit a woman."

"But you'd hit a kid? Have you got any idea how mental you are?" Ste snapped.

"That's enough now, Steven, or I'll have to gag you," Brady snapped back, "and I've got other plans for your mouth tonight." Brady was travelling again, back around the room and behind Ste's chair. Ste felt those hands on him again, and shivered. The first one caressed his neck, then the next made its way down his T-shirt, both of them soft and almost worshipful in their touch.

The first time Brady had tried this, he'd called it a punishment. It was an act of hatred and violence, to assert his own power. Last time, Brady hadn't seemed to know what he wanted, demanding submission and a fight all at once. This was probably weirder still. It almost wasn't even about power and winning. He just seemed to be enjoying Ste's body.

"Stand up," the old man ordered, voice husky and intense, and Ste obeyed. He heard Brady kick the chair away and felt the hands move to his abdomen.

At least Paddy wasn't watching, he supposed.

The hands delved inside his jeans, and suddenly he felt a mouth on his neck.

He remembered the razor far too late, at the moment that Brady found it. The old man shoved his hands unceremoniously inside Ste's pants and pulled it out, laughing derisively at the sight. "What were you planning to do? Shave me to death? You know, the 'tashe isn't actually a source of power."

"It was all I could find," Ste mumbled, both embarrassed, and finding it ridiculous that Brady found that one, and not the one in his pocket.

Maybe not for long though, and he needed to call Brendan. The phone felt enormous in his sock, at this rate Brady would have found it in seconds. Maybe Paddy would make another escape attempt, and Brady would take long enough dealing with that for Ste to get through to Brendan. Or maybe, he thought, as Brady threw the razor away carelessly over his shoulder, and the hands returned to his waist, maybe, if he fought now, threw Brady off him, hit him, maybe he'd lock him up all alone in the boot for a bit. Or maybe in that cupboard under the stairs. That had a lock on it and was big enough for him to fit. He just needed to be alone!

No sounds were coming from Paddy. He hoped Brady hadn't knocked him out or something.

He made a fist, ready to throw a punch.

His sock started vibrating, then emitted a familiar ring tone. Brady's hands suddenly weren't so soft and gentle.

Great timing Brendan, he thought.

**Thanks again for reading and reviewing and favouriting me and the story - it all means a lot!**


	24. Chapter 24

**AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing. (This chapter starts at about the same time as the last one, then continues after it.)**

It was a small bedroom, with a single ancient looking bed and a nasty smell. There were a few bits of old wooden furniture against the walls; a wardrobe, some draws, a rickety looking chair.

Paddy tried the door first, turning the handle any way it would move, pulling, pushing, then looking for anything pointy that might fit in the key hole. Not that he knew how to pick a lock. If he ever got out of here, that was the first thing he would look up on Youtube.

Then he looked at the window. They seemed to be painted shut. He pushed at the joins for a while, then saw his Grandfather pulling Ste from the car and letting him fall painfully to the ground. Paddy felt a sudden surge of fury at the sight, which only grew when the old man pushed Ste again and again into the house. He needed a release for that tension, for his anger. There was a chair close to him, so he picked it up and threw it against the wall with all the strength he could muster.

It did very little. One already loose looking leg broke off, and it made quite a satisfying noise (he'd shouted something too, which was almost as satisfying) but he was still locked in this ugly room, while God knew what was happening to Ste downstairs. He needed a better plan than anger and loud noises.

So, the door was not gonna happen. And, if Paddy was right, Granddad would be totally distracted by Ste for a while, and wasn't likely to come anywhere near opening the door in time. Even if he did, that wouldn't provide a way out.

That left the window, but he couldn't open it, and breaking it would be too noisy.

Except, would it be too noisy? He'd just thrown a chair against a wall and he couldn't hear anyone coming to check on him. But glass sounded completely different didn't it?

But the chair had been loud in this wooden, echoing house. How loud would the wardrobe be? Loud enough to stop them noticing another sound?

The wardrobe was about two feet from the window, big and oak. This might not even be possible.

He thought of Ste, bruised and crying underneath Granddad. He had to try.

He pulled the broken leg from the chair. It would do to break the glass, and then he could get out. He wondered if he would have to jump. That would be scary, it was a long way down. What if he broke his leg?

No, he couldn't think like that. It was up to Paddy now. He had to try.

He positioned himself between the window and the wardrobe, and pushed against the latter with all his might, left hand poised to smash the glass the moment it fell.

Except it barely moved.

He would have to try with both hands. No, that wouldn't work either. He wouldn't be able to smash the glass at the same time.

He would have to think again. The chest of draws. It was against the opposite wall, but much lighter than the wardrobe. But it was heavy too.

He moved it a draw at a time, until it was right in front of the window, the main body last. He shoved the draws back in, then shoved it with his foot. The dropped the draws as he was putting them back in but he thought quickly, and managed to smash the window while they dropped. Not enough, he wouldn't fit through. He threw the rest of the chest over, shouting and smashing the window at the same time, or as much as he could. Then he listened.

Shit, footsteps. Granddad was coming up. The window was broken. He would move Paddy if he saw, or beat him up enough that he'd never get away. Paddy threw the curtains closed, stood in front, then realised he had to have a good way to have made that noise when Granddad opened the door.

He was at the top of the stairs already.

Paddy picked up one of the drawers, and threw it at the door, then another and did the same, just in time to see Granddad opening it up.

Granddad stared at the drawers on the floor, then at Padraig.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?"

What now? Take his attention off the window.

He threw himself at his Granddad, hit him, kicked him, punched him. Hardly any of the blows landed, but that wasn't the point. Granddad's did. He felt it on his face, and flew backwards, thankfully landing on the bed rather than any of the furniture.

Granddad followed him, and punched him again, in the belly this time, then shouted. Paddy didn't really hear the words, but it was probably more of what he said earlier. Shut up, stop making a fuss, be a man, go to bed.

Go to bed in the middle of the day. How was that the same as being a man?

He lay still on the bed, hoping he looked like he'd given up. It was enough. Granddad stormed out, locking the door. Paddy waited, listening, hoping he wouldn't come back, that that was it.

No return of the footsteps, just low voices down stairs. He breathed and breathed, then stood up. His face was throbbing, his already bruised belly was almost enough to make him give up, but he knew he couldn't. He had to get help, he had to get out, and he couldn't get Ste out by himself.

There were sharp bits in the window still, but with the remaining chair in front, he managed to get out and onto the narrow ledge on the outside. He clung to the frame and looked for a way down.

He couldn't believe his luck. A drainpipe climbed the house just feet from the window. God he hoped it would hold his weight. He shimmied down, had a thought, and jumped the last six feet.

It was still light, and he was out. He knew the way to the village. He could get to Dad. Couldn't he?

* * *

><p>Brady's hands were on Ste's waist had frozen.<p>

"Is that…" Brady started, breathing deeply, holding in that furious anger by a thread, "is that coming from your foot, Steven?"

"I…"

But Brady was ahead of him. He shoved him forward, and he fell over the table. Brady grabbed his leg, pulled it up and pulled the phone out of the sock, then pushed Ste onto the floor.

As soon as he hit it, he jumped up again, ready to fight, ready to do whatever it took. Brady held the phone like it was a snake he'd grabbed found in the grass. Then he smashed it on the table, once, twice, again and again and again.

Ste clenched his fists anew. When Brady had calmed enough to turn to him, he started.

"What, did you expect me to just sit back and do nothing? Let you get away with it?"

Brady shook his head, but not in the way you would to say no. He shook it like he was clearing his head.

"You are a sick bastard," Ste continued, "beating up your Grandkid, shoving him in the boot of your car, taking him away from his Mam, never mind what you tried to do to me. You try coming near me, I will fight you off again and again. You are not gonna rape me. You are nothing but a pathetic, violent, disgusting old man!"

Brady glared at him, the ruins of the phone in hand still, and sized him up.

"Come on then!" Ste shouted, "Come and try it!"

Brady threw the first punch, which Ste dodged, and then they were both going. Whatever bit of each other they could hurt, they tried their hardest. Ste scrambled to punch, to kick, and so did Brady. They fell down, Brady on top, then Ste, then Brady again, then Ste managed to get out of that, and managed to get the table between them.

"You disgusting little queer," shouted Brady, nursing a split lip Ste didn't even remember causing.

"No, you're the disgusting one. We're both queer," shouted Ste back, and Brady went for him again. He tried to climb over the table, but Ste had run already, behind one of the chairs, which he picked up and wielded like a weapon.

Brady laughed at him, "What are you planning on doing with that?" he jeered.

"Whatever it takes," Ste replied, then got distracted.

Paddy was outside the window, running away from the house.

Paddy, who had been in the front seat. Paddy who might know the direction home. Paddy, for whom he had got into this mess.

If Paddy got away, he could just run. And the first person Paddy would go to would be Brendan. If Paddy got away, they were both saved.

But what did Brady say? Twenty miles? He didn't really think that was the truth, but it might take Paddy ages to get anywhere on foot. Much less for Brady in the car.

Paddy escaping was the only thing that mattered. If he could get out… well, that was worth any price wasn't it? But he needed to get away. He needed the time. If Brady got bored of fighting, he might decide to use Paddy as leverage again. He might just get fed up, and go to Paddy any moment, take him away again, leave Ste here. If he went to Paddy's room now, the boy would never get away. Ste had to keep him down here, focusing on him. All night if he had to.

Brady yanked the chair from his hands, but Ste didn't care. He knew what he had to do.

So Ste kissed him, hard on the mouth.

He knew just one way he could keep Brady busy all night.


	25. Chapter 25

**AN: Thanks for the reviews. Did I shock you? (Smirks evilly)**

**Continuity is tricky. Enjoy!**

Brendan felt himself going crazy. He tried contacts all over the city. He tried bribes, he'd tried threats, he'd got himself out of his depth and only got out by the skin of his teeth. But he'd got nothing in return – no whiff of his father. Either no one knew anything, or his father was better funded (or scarier) than he wanted to think.

He was exhausting the possibilities fast, trying every car rental he knew of, and using a mixture of threats and charm to get what he needed from receptionists. Nothing sounded likely. No names, time frames. He beat up a small tree outside the last one, as he realised that he had to tell Eileen and Declan now. There was no way out of it. He had to find out what they knew, if they had any clues about where the old bastard may have taken them. They would be devastated. They would fall apart.

He got back in the car, one window still broken; he hadn't had the time to get it fixed, and didn't have the motivation until his reasons for living returned, and breathed deeply.

Eileen was already a bit flustered when he knocked. "There ye are at last," she said instead of a greeting, "Our Declan was all upset when he got home, saying you picked up Paddy and not him. Why would you do such a thing, ey? Is it something to do with what happened last year? Ye haven't left him on his own with that…" her lip curled, "Ste, have ye?"

Brendan's heart sank again, and he realised he'd let himself hope that Padraig at least would be fine, and at home having just bunked off or something.

"Is Deccy here?" he asked.

"'Course, he's upstairs, I'll just…"

"No, just… just go sit down, we need to talk."

"What?"

"Just sit down."

"I will not sit down, Brendan Brady," Eileen said, in the shrill voice of nagging women everywhere, "you tell me what's going on this instant!"

Great start, Brendan thought.

"It's…" he started.

"Alright, Dad?" interrupted Declan from the stairs, "how come you picked Paddy up early?"

"I didn't," Brendan replied, trying not to look panicked while slipping through the door finally, "look, let's all sit down in the living room."

"What do you mean you didn't pick him up?" Eileen shrieked.

"What, is he with Ste?" Declan asked.

"Just shut up!" Brendan shouted, almost losing his temper, having to take deep breaths. He'd let his temper lose too much already today. "Declan, when was the last time you saw him?"

"On the way to school. We walked together," Dec replied, reaching the bottom step and frowning.

"You were with him all the way?"

"No, I left him to meet some mates."

"Brendan," cried Eileen, "what has happened to him?"

They were still stood in the hallway, the door still open, but Brendan had to tell them what he knew. Which wasn't much really, just the text Ste had left for him.

Eileen was in bits before he finished.

* * *

><p>Paddy ran all the way to the village, fuelled completely by adrenaline. It took ages, and by the time he got there he felt like he'd been run over. There wasn't a part of him that wasn't throbbing or aching, and now his lungs were gasping too, and his heart pounding, trying to keep him going.<p>

He sprinted to the first house that he saw and pounded on the door. "Let me in! I need to use your phone!"

"Get lost," shouted a scared voice from inside. "Go away, I'm calling the police."

"No! Please don't! If he sees the police he'll… Please, I'm going."

Padded jogged away from there. The next house he tried didn't even answer. He swore loudly and kicked at the door which was probably why the next house didn't answer either.

It was a very small village, and there weren't many houses left to try. Then he saw the pub, lit up on the corner between the village's only two streets. He ran to it and straight inside.

A handful of people were sat mournfully about a bar and some tables, and every head turned to him as he entered. He didn't care. He ran straight to the bar.

"I need to use your phone!"

The barmaid looked bewildered.

"Now!" he shouted.

He could see her recoiling. He couldn't afford that. "Please, please! It's an emergency. Look at me!"

She looked undecided for a moment longer, then lifted the barrier and guided him to the living area.

"Thank you," he said, and grabbed the phone.

What to dial though? If Ste had Dad's phone, Granddad would have it now, and he wasn't sure he could remember any mobile numbers anyway. They were all stored in his phone. He'd never bothered to memorise them.

He couldn't call the police either. That wouldn't work. He needed Dad. He was the only one who could sort this out.

And he could only think of one possibility.

He dialled his own home number. Mam was going to freak.

* * *

><p>Brendan drove Declan along the route to school, while Declan, sat in the back to avoid the broken window, described everything he could remember, his face pale, his voice wavering.<p>

The accusations had flown the moment Eileen had understood the whole truth. He'd thrown some back. He'd lost count of the times he told her not to keep contact with the old man, he'd shouted. He was still Brendan's father.

He told her he would deal with it, that there would never be a problem with his father again, and he meant it.

They found nothing on the route. They knocked on a few doors with a photo of Padraig, but no one seemed to know anything. How could no one notice a child being abducted in the middle of the day?

They drove back, Declan's tears falling slowly as he tried to be manly. Brendan tried to comfort him with assurances he didn't really know himself.

"He's not going to hurt Padraig," he said, for his own benefit as much as Declan's.

Declan sniffed. "And Ste?"

Steven. Steven had fought the old bastard off once. Maybe he could do it again.

"Steven's stronger than he looks, Deccy."

Declan nodded, maybe wanting to believe that as much as Brendan.

They got back to the house and Brendan parked the car, then sat in silence for a few minutes more. Brendan glanced at Declan in the rear view mirror. He wasn't sure he could have looked at him in person. "I will find him, Dec. I'll bring them home, and _he_ will not be bothering us again."

Dec nodded again. "I know you will."

Declan still had faith in him. That helped. A lot.

"Come on then."

They both got out, and into the house just in time to see Eileen throwing herself at the house phone.

"Padraig?"

They both stared at her. Her face fell, and she slammed the phone down without saying anything else.

"It wasn't him," she said. And it didn't matter who else it was. Nothing else mattered.

She sat down again on the stairs beside the phone. Dec sat next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

"I'll make us some tea, yeah?" said Brendan, and started to walk to the kitchen.

The phone jangled. Eileen sprang up. "Padraig?"

Declan and Brendan stared at her face again. They saw it change, from pure fear to hope, to a smile.

"Padraig! Where are you?"

Brendan was beside her in an instant.

"He's right here," Eileen said, "where are you? Are you OK?"

She listened, and Brendan put his ear against the phone, and just about heard "I'm fine, but please Mam, I need to talk to Dad."

Brendan took the phone. "I'm right here son. Where are ye? I'm coming to get ye."

* * *

><p>Padraig was so relieved to hear his father's voice. He gave him the name of the village, and directions to the cottage.<p>

"I'll be there as soon as I can Padraig. Where are you now?"

"I'm in the pub in the village…" he started.

"Good," said Dad, "stay there."

"But Ste…"

"It's not your responsibility. Tell the people you're with I'll pay them to let you sleep there tonight, and I'll be with you before you know it."

"No, Dad," he insisted. "I've left Ste alone with him. If he realises I'm not there, God knows what he'll do."

"Padraig, you stay where you are!"

"Dad, I've got to go or he'll realise. I've got to be there for Ste!"

"Padraig!"

He hung up on him. He knew what he had to do.

The bar maid was staring at him like he was crazy.

"Thanks," he said, with no intention to explain what just happened. "I've got to go. Here."

He grabbed a piece of paper and drew a quick map to the cottage.

"If a man with a moustache shows up looking for his son or his boyfriend, give him that."

"His son or his…?" The barmaid started to repeat.

Paddy didn't listen to the question. "Thanks," he shouted again over his shoulder as he ran back out again, up the streets, and back to the cottage. He didn't dare look in the window downstairs. The drainpipe was much harder to climb up than it was to get down. He used a bin and the window ledges to climb back up again, cutting his hand as he forgot the jagged bits of glass that still remained.

He tugged the curtains as closed as they would go, then lay on the bed, curled up, hoping desperately to get some sleep, but all the time imagining Ste and Granddad. Granddad and Ste. It ran through his mind, like a child playing games, just out of reach, but never leaving him alone.


	26. Chapter 26

**AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing guys. Please keep letting me know what you think. It makes it all worth while.**

It was a good job Ste had slept in the car. He was working so hard to stay awake right now.

Not because he was comfortable. He really, really wasn't. But his mind was desperate to switch off, to push out everything that had just happened, to throw it all away. He tried to kid himself they were Brendan's arms wrapped around him; they were strong and toned like Brendan's and in the darkness he couldn't make out colourings. But they weren't of course. Ste could have recognise Brendan even if he'd been blinded and deafened. Only Brendan was Brendan.

God, when would this horrid old bastard turn over? Or loosen his grip or something. When Leah slept, even when she was desperate to cling to her toys, they could always sneak it out when it needed to go in the washing machine. She couldn't keep clinging in her sleep. Surely Brady couldn't either?

Ste couldn't see the time. One phone had been destroyed and lay in bits on the table. He didn't know where the other was. Somewhere in Brady's pockets probably. And this filthy shit hole didn't have any working clocks, even if he could have seen them.

It did have electricity though. Brady had switched on a nasty bare bulb that hung from the ceiling just before they'd done the deed for which Ste now hated himself. He switched it off again after, and laid them both down on a rug in front of the fireplace (with no fire) with a couple of coats. Then they'd repeated the deed in the darkness. Ste had been grateful the old bastard couldn't see his face, which was scrunched up in revulsion.

It had to be enough time now, though, didn't it? If Paddy hadn't found somewhere by now, he wasn't going to. It was pitch black and the middle of nowhere. Ste just needed space away from this man until Brendan got here.

Assuming Paddy had found a phone. And told Brendan how to find Ste. He would have found somewhere by now wouldn't he? They were in Ireland, not the Sahara. He couldn't walk for this long and not find any sign of life, could he?

He wasn't completely certain Paddy would send Brendan after him too, though.

But Paddy had had long enough to make his escape now. It was time for Ste to make his own. Preferably before Brady woke up and realised Paddy was gone, or the fall out would be massive. Ste wasn't in a good enough place emotionally to be certain he would win.

He just needed to escape.

He lifted the arm over his waist. The other was underneath his shoulders. Brady shifted in his sleep, so Ste froze, heart beating like a wild animal in his chest. Brady stilled, but Ste remained perfectly still for a moment longer. He probably would have woken up if someone had been holding his arm like that. Or maybe not. He'd have to ask Brendan.

O God, how was he going to explain all that had happened to Brendan?

He would have to worry about that later. He managed to rest Brady's arm on the man's own chest. Now he could only wake him as he took his own weight away.

He sat up as slowly as he could, then sat dead still for a moment. He listened to the slow breathing beside him. It wasn't disturbed. His boxers were only a little way down his legs, so he tugged them up, and searched for is tee-shirt. He'd tried to be careful of where his clothes landed when Brady had ripped them off. Ripped was an accurate word to describe what happened to the tee-shirt. A tear ran the from the neck down for about two inches, but he put it on anyway. He'd managed to be more careful with his jeans, which were on the table, he remembered. He'd managed to throw the razor away before Brady found it, but had no clue where it was now. He put the jeans on, then realised he was facing the biggest decision of his life.

A few feet from him, sound asleep, was the most evil man he had ever had the misfortune of meeting. Much as he wanted to think a couple of fucks on the floor of this scabby cottage was enough to satisfy whatever it was the old man was after, he didn't really believe it. And he'd been after Paddy, today anyway. Ste had no reason to believe that was over and done with.

He stared at the prone sleeping figure in the darkness. The world would be a better place if the old bastard never woke up.

If Ste could just stop that soft sound of breathing, they might all get a decent life. They might get to be happy.

Could Ste do that? Could he kill another person? Brendan's father? Maybe he had to. Brendan had killed to protect him. Maybe he had to kill to protect Brendan's children?

But Danny Houston was already a murderer. Brendan did what he did to save Ste's life, and Ste was pretty sure Brady wasn't going to kill Paddy, even if Paddy hadn't got away.

He was less sure Brady wouldn't try to kill him. But it wouldn't be self defence right now. Right now it would be him killing a defenceless old man in his sleep. Ste couldn't do that. He had no weapon for a start.

That was the first thing to deal with. He edged his way through the darkness, avoiding anything that could make a sound. He reached the door at the back, and opened it. It creaked so loudly he flinched and went still again, to hear Brady's sleeping breath. It was still regular. Ste breathed out and went through.

Closing the door would make another squeak, and he may not be so lucky a second time, but he had to have a light or he'd never find anything in a room he'd never seen before. He groped at the wall, found a switch and took the risk. It was another nasty bare bulb that cast a hideous yellow glow on the sleeping figure.

Still sleeping. Thank God.

It was a kitchen. Ste could see cupboards, some drawers and an ancient looking cooker. Ste took a guess and pulled open the top drawer. Nothing sharp in there. He opened the second, and found a sharpish looking knife. He didn't think it could do much damage, but hopefully he would never have to use it.

He didn't bother closing the drawer, or turning the kitchen light out. He edged back out into the main room and tiptoed carefully to the door.

IT was such slow progress. Some floor boards creaked, sometimes he thought Brady opened an eye. He didn't have anywhere to put the knife, so he clung to the handle with his sweaty hand, expecting to drop it at any moment.

Three steps from the door. Two steps.

With his hand on the handle, Ste jumped a mile at the sudden knocking from upstairs.

What? But Paddy escaped. Ste saw him!

He dashed up the stairs. There were two doors; one open, leading to a bathroom, the other shut.

"Granddad?" called a little voice through it. "I need to pee."

"Shut up!" he hissed back. He tried the handle. It turned but the door wouldn't budge. He dropped the knife and grasped around, until he found the key in the lock. He turned it.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed at the determined looking boy behind the door. "I saw you escaping!"

Paddy looked frustratingly proud of himself.

"I came back. For you. To protect you."

Ste gaped like a fish. "You did what?"

"I called Dad, he's on his way, and I came back to make sure you didn't get hurt."

Ste could barely believe his ears. "You… to make sure…. Have you got any idea what I did to make sure you got away?"

He was talking too loud, but what was the kid thinking?

"What did you do?" asked Paddy, frowning.

"Just… something awful. What were you thinking?"

"I couldn't let him hurt you because I wasn't here, and he would have, wouldn't he? When he found I wasn't here? I'm so glad you're alright, Ste."

Ste sighed. Paddy was trying to be brave, to do the right thing. He stepped closer to Ste as he said that, and put his arms around him.

"Oh, Paddy," Ste said, and hugged him back.

"Well," sneered Brady, from the top of the stairs, "this is a touching scene."


	27. Chapter 27

**AN: Thanks again for the lovely reviews, and anyone who's just reading (but secretely I would love you to review too). **

**I was skimming the Brendan Brady fan thread on Digital Spy the other day and spotted them discussing my (unless someone has written something with a very similar storyline) fic. They said that it scarred them, and was far too dark. Whoops. So, I apologise to anyone I have scarred, but assume, if you're still reading 27 chapters into the third story that you don't mind being scarred. I really hope you're still enjoying it (though obviously enjoy is the wrong word - being moved, maybe?), please keep reviewing, it will make me remember to post the end (which is written... oooo...)**

**x**

* * *

><p>Ste could have kicked himself for being so stupid. Run first, check motives later, obviously.<p>

He spun around, pushing Paddy firmly behind him.

"So, what did you do, Steven, to help young Padraig here run around the Irish wilderness in the middle of the night?" Brady's voice was dripping with irony. This was not a question he expected an answer to, but there was another quality in there too. Ste remembered Brendan using a similar tone when he spoke about Noah.

"Nothing," Ste said.

"Nothing?" Brady repeated, sneering, "interesting. Paddy, what did you say about Brendan?"

"Nothing," said Paddy.

"Nothing, too? Interesting. It seems I keep imagining things."

Shit, if he moved them now, before Brendan got there, they might not get another chance. Brendan might never find them.

"Look," said Ste, "you don't have to do this."

"Huh," Brady replied.

"We could just go. You and me. If you leave Paddy somewhere safe, no one'll even follow us."

"You think so, Steven?" Brady prompted.

"Yeah," said Ste, "what we did, last night, that could happen every night, right? But, if you don't let Paddy go home, Brendan'll never let that happen. We'll always be looking over our shoulders for him."

Brady laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Just you and me," Ste continued, putting his hand on Brady's arm, "Just like last night."

Brady's laugh became a hiss. Then suddenly he punched Ste. Then again, and again. "I am not queer!" he shouted. Paddy jumped at him, shouting at him to stop, to never touch Ste again, but Brady just pushed him out of the way. Ste had landed on the floor. The knife was close, but he didn't want Brady to notice it yet.

"What?" Brady sneered at him, "you think I'm your wee boyfriend now?" he spat the word out like it was poison in his mouth, "you disgust me!"

The choice of words wasn't lost on Ste, and treacherous tears leapt to his eyes.

"Padraig," Brady announced, calming down a bit, "go downstairs. I don't need to wait for the morning to show ye how the world treats queers."

Ste dove for the knife. Brady grabbed his hair, trying to drag him away from it, but he got his fingers around the handle.

He slashed at the hand that held him. It barely made an impact but it took Brady by surprise. He yelped and sprang back, giving Ste enough space to grab Paddy's hand and run down the stairs. It was later than he thought, he realised. A soft light was beginning to brighten the sky outside the window, which was turning grey instead of black. They got to the door before Brady hit the top step, but it was locked. Ste tugged at the bolts, but he didn't want to let go of the knife or Paddy. He got one of the two bolts free, but then Brady was on them, pushing Paddy aside.

Ste shoved the knife at him again. It made a small cut on the older man's face this time, but didn't do much more than make Brady angrier. Ste dodged under his arm and just managed to get the table in between them. Paddy was beside him again a moment later.

"Get behind me," Ste called to the boy.

"No!" insisted Paddy, "I'm not gonna let him hurt you again."

Brady tried to grab at them over the table. They both flinched back.

"Stay back!" Ste shouted, "I'm not afraid to use this!"

"You may as well use the razor, Steven," the old man sneered, looking crazed. "You're not getting out of here alive. Stop fighting and I might make it quick."

Suddenly Paddy wasn't beside Ste anymore. He'd thrown himself at the old man.

"You're not gonna hurt him!" shouted Paddy, kicking and hitting. Brady back handed him, sending the boy flying.

"Look what you've done to my Grandson, you disgusting little queer!" Brady shouted at Ste, but Ste was already checking Paddy was moving. He did, and Ste breathed a sigh of relief. But, with his attention on Paddy, he was an easy target for Brady, who grabbed him by the arm and tried to grab the knife. Ste grasped it, struggling to keep hold and to keep it out of Brady's reach.

It fell from their hands, and Ste managed to kick it away. Brady tried to throw him out of the way, but he held firm to the old man, trying to keep him away from the knife. It was chaos. Brady was shouting, Ste was shouting back. Kicks and punches were thrown on both sides, but no one seemed to be winning. Soon they broke apart just to be able to breathe.

Then suddenly the door was open. Paddy was holding it, beaming in delight, and Brendan was glaring at his father.

Ste ran to pick up the knife. He didn't really doubt Brendan's ability to win this, but he didn't want to give Brady any advantages.

"Steven," Brendan breathed, and Ste liked to think that his anger was forgotten for a moment as he found Ste relatively unharmed. Ste grinned back at him. "And you," he growled at Paddy, "are in are in a lot of trouble, Padraig Brady. I told ye not to come back here."

Paddy's grin shrank. Brendan glared back at his father.

"Steven, will you take Padraig out to the car please?"

Ste nodded, and walked straight to the door.

"What's he going to do?" Paddy asked, not doing as instructed.

"Come on," Ste said, "we've gotta go."

Paddy looked for a moment like he was going to argue. Ste worried he might refuse. Ste himself definitely didn't want to see what happened next. He was scared of Brendan when he got like this. Not because he thought Brendan would hurt him, but because this was a part of him he didn't need to see. And neither did Paddy.

"Come on," he repeated, and took Paddy's hand, leading him outside.

Brendan shut the door firmly behind them.


	28. Chapter 28

Ste leant against Brendan's car, with Paddy next to him, staring at the floor, as they both waited for it to end. Everything to end.

"Is he gonna kill him?" Paddy asked, in a shaky voice.

Ste didn't answer. He couldn't acknowledge what was going on, but nor could he lie to Paddy. Not after everything that had happened to them. He looked worriedly at the door, then away, hoping not to think about what was going on on the other side.

"Are you alright?" Ste asked eventually.

Paddy nodded jerkily, but Ste realised he was shaking.

"Come here," Ste said, putting an arm around his shoulders.

"I'm fine," Paddy mumbled, embarrassed.

"It's OK. I was scared too," said Ste, kindly. The kid didn't need to pretend to be manly.

Paddy grumbled.

"I've never wanted to run and hide more," Ste added, almost to himself.

Paddy let himself be hugged by the one arm on his shoulders, and leant his head against Ste's shoulder. Ste let himself relax properly, feeling his exhaustion. Brendan was here, Brady would be gone from their lives, and Paddy not only liked him, he was actually letting him comfort him. He had even come back to this awful place after escaping in an attempt to help him. Which was bloody stupid, but very brave. They just needed Brendan to end it, and they would be gone. This would be over, and life would be better than it had ever been.

"What did you do?" Paddy asked, suddenly, breaking the silence.

"What?" Ste asked, distractedly.

"What you said, you know," Paddy replied, and Ste's heart sank, "when you said I didn't know what you'd done? So I could escape?"

Ste had an image of Brady on top of him.

"Nothing," he said, but knew that wouldn't be enough. He knew his body had tensed. He knew Paddy wouldn't accept that as an answer.

Paddy hadn't moved his head, but Ste knew he was going to ask.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Don't tell your Dad." He couldn't help saying it. He'd just started imagining something wonderful, and this could ruin it. Brendan probably wouldn't blame him, wouldn't hold it against him, not really, but it would be like a nasty stain, spreading, ruining their happy future. A cancer, growing and poisoning them all. He didn't regret it either. He almost wanted to hit Paddy for coming back, for almost making it worth nothing, but it was the only thing to do. Brady would have forced it anyway.

"I mean," he continued, "he doesn't need to know. I mean, _he_'ll probably say, but…"

He didn't know what to say. Could he really explain this to Paddy? Paddy's loyalties were to his Dad. As they should be. He had no reason to be loyal to Ste, not if Ste was lying.

"I won't say anything," Paddy said. His voice was quiet, but Ste could tell it was genuine. "You did it for me, didn't you? To help me and protect me."

"Yeah," Ste confirmed.

"You did all of this for me," said Paddy, head drooping, "he used me to get you into the boot. Did he do that to get you into the car before as well?"

Ste thought about what to say carefully before he said it. "You mustn't think any of this is your fault, Paddy. This was all him. He was crazy, like, proper mad. None of it's your fault."

Paddy looked at him strangely, "I…"

The door of the house opened and Brendan stepped through it. Ste had felt like he'd never see his lover again more than once in the last day. His feet moved by themselves, straight to the taller man, who was moving with equal intensity to him, until they were close enough to wrap their arms around each other and cling. Brendan's arms felt so good and strong.

Maybe if he didn't think about what Brendan had just done, Brendan wouldn't need to think about what Ste had done during the night.

One of Brendan's arms released him, and he was confused for a moment, then realised he was beckoning Paddy over. He turned, expecting Paddy to have the relief that he did on his face. Paddy didn't. He was frowning, and glowering at them.

It felt a bit like being stabbed in the heart after that closeness they'd just had. He leant back into Brendan for a moment longer, and clung on that little harder.

"Are you alright?" Brendan asked quietly. He nodded.

"You?"

"Yeah," sighed Brendan. "It's over."

Ste nodded. "I love you," he announced, unnecessarily.

"I love you, too," Bren whispered back.

Paddy had got into the car, in the back, and didn't even look at them again. The sight stirred up more worries for Ste. He'd let himself hope again, that Paddy didn't hate him, that Paddy actually liked him, and cared enough about him to come back for him. They should be in a wonderful place now. But they'd gone backwards, back to when Paddy could barely look without glaring, where he hated Ste for being with his Dad.

It was what he'd done with Brady. It had to be. Paddy thought he'd betrayed Brendan. But it was the opposite. Ste would do anything for Brendan, just as he knew Brendan would for him. He hadn't been able to kill Brady, but he could protect Brendan's son from him. He had used the only weapon he'd had left to protect someone Brendan loved, just like he knew Brendan would have done anything to protect Leah and Lucas.

Maybe he could explain that to Paddy.

Brendan led him to the car, and Ste had to laugh when he saw the window.

"What happened to that?" he asked.

"It gave me a funny look," smirked Brendan. "Want to go in the back?"

Not particularly, Ste thought, seeing Paddy glowering at the back of a seat, but nodded, and sat beside the teen.

He should have been more worried, or tried to talk Paddy round, but he didn't know where to start.

"I won't be much company," Ste said, to no one in particular. "I'm shattered, me."

"Yeah, both of yis get some sleep, yeah?" Brendan called over his shoulder as he got in the driver's seat. He turned the ignition, and they were all away from that place.

Ste didn't remember the journey. He was asleep before they hit the main road.


	29. Chapter 29

**AN: Can't believe this has come to an end. It has taken me ages to decide what order this chapter should go in, but I hope you enjoy it. Though clearly it is time, as sadly I am becoming too predictable. Sorry SteBren. x**

**Thank you to everyone who has left me a review or favourited any of these 3 stories or me. It has been a labour of obsession for me, but has been nice to know I wasn't alone on the journey. Thanks in particular to Ruthyroo, HeyBanana (or Soggy Teabag) and Hannival who have kept me sane with extra words of encouragement.**

**Enjoy…**

* * *

><p>Brendan watched as two of the three people he cared for most in the world fell asleep in the back of his car. Their bodies were angled towards each other, their faces relaxed and clear and beautiful.<p>

Sometime in the future, weeks, months, he didn't know, the police would let him know that his father had been found dead, and they suspected suicide. Memories of it ate at him, but he did not regret it. Not for a moment. He wished he'd done it sooner, when he'd had the chance. Prison would have been worth it if it saved them this. Paddy must have been scared shitless, and Steven…

Brendan would never be able to make up for what happened to Steven.

He wondered if Steven would ever mention it. The old bastard had revelled in telling him all that had passed in hideous detail. He'd struggled to keep it looking like suicide with that rage in him. He wondered how much of it was true. Did Steven really just let him in the end? He imagined Steven orgasm while the old bastard fucked him.

No. No, never imagine that.

He'd half expected the image to destroy them. But it hadn't. He hated it, but the moment he'd seen Steven's face as he left the cottage he knew that nothing could spoil them. He loved Steven. It had been all about possession once, like a child with a favourite toy, when Noah's hands had been the source of nightmares and jealous rages, but he had grown. Steven had helped him grow. He knew that Steven would always return to him. If he hadn't fought the old bastard off, there must have been a reason. And Brendan had guessed it was the boy asleep beside the man he loved.

This was a bond that couldn't be broken now. They were a family. They'd risked their lives for each other. Paddy had been angry after, but more with Brendan than Steven. He probably blamed Brendan for not stopping it sooner. Brendan blamed Brendan for not stopping it sooner. It would pass.

He found the main road. The sun was rising in the east, the direction he was heading. The road was nearly empty, and the green countryside of Ireland spread around him. The night was over, the day had come. The future was ahead of them. Paddy cared about Steven, Steven was Steven, and both were safe in his car.

The future promised to be great.

* * *

><p><em>A few minutes earlier<em>

Paddy was feeling a bit sick as he and Ste leant against Dad's car, both waiting for it to end. He thought he knew what Dad was doing to Granddad, but when he asked, Ste refused to confirm it. He was kind though. He didn't tease Paddy for shaking, or tell him to man up or anything, but put an arm around him. It felt nice to be hugged like that. It wasn't a babying hug like he got from Granny or Auntie Chez, but it was comforting and kind without being patronising. Then he'd had to spoil it by asking those stupid questions.

"What did you do?"

"What?" Ste asked, distractedly.

"What you said, you know," Paddy replied, knowing he shouldn't, but needing to know, "when you said I didn't know what you'd done? So I could escape?"

"Nothing," Ste replied, but he'd gone so tense, and Paddy had a feeling he knew what had happened. He knew what he was going to ask was a stupid question. He knew better than anyone what Granddad wanted to do to Ste, and there was no way they could have been alone for so long without one of them winning. And he knew the fact that Ste was still there in the morning should have been enough to let him know who won. But still he asked.

"Did you sleep with him?"

"Don't tell your Dad." That was Ste's instant answer. It annoyed Paddy a little, but he couldn't put his finger on why. Maybe it was because it showed the flaw in the relationship. If Ste couldn't tell Dad that, what else couldn't he tell him? Yeah, that must be it. They may be obsessed with each other, but it wasn't real if there was no honesty.

"I mean," Ste continued, "he doesn't need to know. I mean, _he_'ll probably say, but…"

Ste looked so worried. He needed Paddy to be supportive. Paddy could do that. He wanted to do that.

"I won't say anything,"

Ste smiled at him. He had one of those smiles, did Ste, that would make anyone smile back. It was contagious. Even the meanest person in the world would give anything for a smile like that. It would make anyone get that warm fuzzy feeling in their belly. He let his head rest on Ste's shoulder again, and it was comforting. And it wasn't just that he liked Ste. Ste really liked him. Really, genuinely cared for him.

"You did it for me, didn't you? To help me and protect me."

"Yeah," Ste confirmed, sadly but firmly, like he knew however bad it was, he had needed to do it.

"You did all of this for me," said Paddy, head drooping, "he used me to get you into the boot. Did he do that to get you into the car before as well?"

Ste missed the point. "You mustn't think any of this is your fault, Paddy. This was all him. He was crazy, like, proper mad. None of it's your fault."

Paddy looked at him, willing him to understand, "I…"

Dad interrupted. He opened the door to the cottage, where he'd murdered his own father, and interrupted Paddy's moment, making them both stare. He felt the comfort of Ste's arm leave his shoulder and saw him walk straight into Dad's arms. It was like he thought he belonged there, like Ste needed Dad.

And Paddy hated that.

Dad's eyes found him too, and he took one arm from around Ste to beckon him over. Paddy couldn't. He was suddenly too angry. He went, instead, to the other side of the car, saw the front window was broken and got in the back.

Ste and Dad stayed outside a moment longer. That annoyed Paddy too. He heard them laugh about Dad's window, then Ste got in the back beside him.

Ste was behaving like Dad was the brave one. Like Dad had saved them. OK, so Dad had saved them, but only because of how brave Paddy had been. Paddy had gone back, after he escaped. He could have just stayed away in that village, where people would have looked after him. But he didn't. He went back. For Ste.

He said nothing as Dad drove them home. Ste fell asleep in moments. It was almost childish, really. He wondered how old he was. Dec had said twenty one or twenty two or something. That was more than twelve years younger than Dad. He was closer to Paddy's age. He looked younger, really. Sometimes.

"You alright there, Padriag?" Dad asked, looking at him in the mirror. Padraig wondered if he knew what had changed, if he'd noticed the shift.

"Yeah," he said, hoping he didn't. Why was no one acknowledging how brave he had been?

"Why don't you get some sleep too, yeah? Your Ma won't let you out of her sight when you get home. This might be the only chance ye get."

Paddy hummed in response, and put his head back against the seat, then turned it to face the sleeping Ste. His face had turned to Paddy while he slept. That was natural wasn't it? Ste saw it, even if Dad didn't.

Dad didn't deserve Ste. He was just a bully really. He'd let Ste get into this situation. But Ste was brave and good, and had made sacrifices for Paddy that Paddy could never pay back.

And he was beautiful. That perfect face and those long lashes.

Paddy let himself drift off, Ste's perfect face dominating his dreams.

**Hope you enjoyed.**

**If you want more, see Daddy's Boy...**


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